The Rebirth Wings of Liberty Edition 2015
by Writer Frantic
Summary: In this book contains three stories! Anthony's New Groove, Duty in Death, and a brand new Protoss Rebirth trailer! Pick it up now at your local Internet site! Celebrating the anniversary of the release of Wings of Liberty!
1. Anthony's New Groove

**Disclaimer: I do not own Starcraft or its affiliates**

 **To kick of the celebration of the anniversary of Wings of Liberty, let's start out with the Terrans!**

Video Footage Taken from Archive 13.2- Personal Library of General Rorke

"I really don't think you should be performing any streneous activities yet." Talia sighed as she met Anthony's demanding glare, shaking her head and tapping a pen against a clipboard. "Your biological systems may be back in sync and you may have completely recovered, but I worry what possible psychological effects that much trauma could've done to you."

"I'm fine doc! Did you see me mess up at all during that grand speech?"

"I noted a few motor movements that were odd, but nothing that could immediately be labeled as PTSD off the bat." The Medical General again sighed. "Even with that, I still am unsure..."

"It'll be fine. Rorke will be with me after all!" Anthony reasoned, trying so hard to convince the doctor. "If nothing else, he has enough medical knowledge to stablize me safely!"

"...fine." For the third time (she must really like sighing), the black haired woman let out a breath of frustration. "You can participate in your...'experiment trials.' Just be safe, I don't want to see you in here again for at least a few weeks!"

"Oh come on, how hard could it be?"

 **Test 1**

"You got permission from the doctor to do this right?" Rorke nervously asked as he watched the Commander strap on the metal boots. "I'm just double checking!"

"Yes, yes, I got permission. Woah!" Anthony experimentally lifted a leg and was almost thrown off balance from how light the piece of equipment was. "Geez, this metal is really light!"

"Thanks to our new partnerships, I was able to acquire some materials that, by sacrificing some durability, could become amazingly light! It's a revolution that changes entires machines my friend; imagine the possibilities!"

"Wait, you said it sacrificed some durability?" Suddenly, Anthony was warily eyeing his General. "And you are sure this is safe?"

"Well, it's some minor issue about heating and whatnot that can be fixed over time! I even took the liberty of upgrading your revolvers with these new materials, so they are near weightless for you."

"Really?" The Terran drew his two signature weapons and weighed them, nodding slowly as he realized the weight change. He briefly frowned at the sight of some odd knobs and buttons on the stock, but realized that only his thumbs reached said options and opted to ignore them. "And this won't affect combat performance at all?"

"They should only jam up from rust after you fired them for a few million years if that's what you're asking."

"Ah." Anthony looked at his handguns and stared. Then, out of nowhere, he began to twirl them around with his fingers, a wide grin breaking on his face as he toss them up in the air and caught the dual revolvers with ease. "Okay, this is awesome now-ow!" He got too cocky in his taunt and one of the revolver stocks smacked him in the nose.

"Commander!"

"I'm alright, just...oh dear. Broken nose I think? Dammit, blood's on my revolver!"

"Ack, medic!"

 **TEST 1.5**

"What's with the video camera?" Anthony suspiciously asked, gesturing to said device. "Are you planning to use the data from these trials for something?"

"Maybe, but it's more for us to have a replay of what had gone right and what had gone wrong in the trial," Rorke explained, turning a few dials and nodding as he gingerly grabbed a small lever. "Okay then! Let's try this out. Um, this is General Rorke, first official testing of Anthony's rocket boots, at...40% power!"

"That sounds a bit low."

"It is, but for safety reasons, let's just start out with that! Are you ready?"

"Of course."

"Then let's go!" With a click, Rorke yanked down on a lever and Anthony's new boots ignited at the soles, ingeniously designed hidden thrusters activating and lifting the equipment off the ground, as well as the Commander. They had lift off!

And then Anthony flew directly straight up into the ceiling of the chamber, slamming his head hard into the metal roof. At the same time, a shocked Rorke let go of the lever, the item smashing back up. Thus, the boots shut off, leaving a stunned Terran Commander flightless as he crashed back onto the ground in a shout of pain. "Youch!"

"Oh, um, MEDIC!"

 **Test 3**

"Okay, sorry, that was way too much power! I forgot to take into account that the metals were very light!" Rorke hurriedly explained, fiddling around with more dials. "Alright, I've adjusted the settings so that we should be at...5% full power!"

"Seriously?" Anthony now had a bandage wrapped around his head as he glared at his subordinate. "5%? I won't even get off the ground at that rate!"

"You'll be surprise by how powerful these things are. Now, let's go!" Rorke pulled and watched the Commander expectantly. Any second now! Any second...! Any second...

There, a spark! Oh wait no, that was the engine's igniter...what was it doing, fizzling out of the boot? Oh, the low power setting must have backlogged the the engines, and the screws consequently come lose and oh look the Commander's sleeve is on fire-

THE COMMANDER WAS ON FIRE. "I'M ON FIRE!"

"OH! MEDIC!"

 **Test 5**

A slightly singed Anthony slammed into a low hanging bulwark and racked his head against the floor in a sickening crunch.

 **Test 8**

The boots only short circuited this time and Rorke muttered something about a shoddy programmer.

 **Test 13**

Anthony narrowly missed ramming into Cain when the man entered the test chamber unexpectedly. He didn't miss landing on top of a cloaked Xana though, much to his own embarrassment at the squaffs from the Marine and the squeak of surprise from the Ghost.

 **Test 18**

"I swear, I would rather face the Zerg naked than wear this stupid outfit!"

"Well, it could help balance out the weight!"

"NO, I am not wearing a bodysuit!"

 **Test 24**

THE COMMANDER WAS ON FIRE.

 **Test 35**

Snores was all that could be heard. Seemed as though Rorke accidentally turned the camera on in his sleep. Perhaps he was a sleep walker? Oh, that could be interesting...

 **Test 40**

"Okay then!" A very, very, very weary Rorke announced, rubbing his dark ringed eyes. "Why am I so sleepy...? Anyway, let's get going. Test I-forgot-what-number-I'll-label-it-in-the-compilation! At the exact power measurement of 23.742-

"Just skip to the test already Rorke," Anthony tiredly ordered and the scientist nodded, pulling the now-worn out lever. Not even a warning or hint was needed.

Immediately, the boots ignited, just as always. That was a good sign: it meant that he wasn't going to catch on fire this time. And he wasn't shouting in pain either: that meant that the calibration was too high either.

However, it was clear that he was definitely off the ground as Anthony hovered unsteadily, throwing his arms out in an attempt at balance. Rorke watched curiously as the Commander flailed a bit before shutting off the boots. The engines inside died instantly and Anthony landed with ease, taking a few unsteady steps back to stabilize himself. "Rorke...I think I like that setting," The black haired Terran finally said, smiling.

"I do as well!" The green haired man cheered, a tired grin showing as he began typing. "I'll calibrate the settings around this result, and using the past data, I'll set the formula for settings that'll determine how you fly."

"Er...hate to be rude, but I didn't understand that at all."

"From this test, I can make you go up and down in a steady fashion. Here, pass me your revolvers." The Commander worldlessly did so and the General opened the stock of the dual weapons, revealing a range of circuitry inside. After a few minutes of tinkering, Rorke sealed back up the revolvers and handed them back to their owner. "There! You can now control your rocket boots using your revolvers! Here, I'll walk you through what each things does: this one controls your flight speed. This one toggles them on or off. This one allows you to ascend..."

O O O

"3! 2! 1! GO!" Cain shouted into the intercom, praying that the Commander heard as the test began. Immediately, his prayers were answered as Anthony drew his revolvers, spinning them in a very flashy way as the target dummies sprung up.

The Commander wasted no time as he flipped the small arms weapons back to proper handling position, firing bullets into the paper targets with ease. However, laser pointers suddenly appeared and began sweeping the room, a demonstration of what enemy return fire could look like. If he were hit even once, the test was failed.

Instead of taking cover as he normally did though, Anthony took in a deep breath and jumped upwards, narrowly avoiding one such laser beam as his jump boots activated. The Commander's fall never came as he ascended higher, a trail of smoking marking his path as he weaved past the lasers in the skies with ease, firing bullets whilst doing so. The Generals all took in a sharp breath as they watched their boss fly for the first time, and in all their heads, the irony emerged: he was robbed off his ability to walk normally, but now, he could fly!

Anthony realized this as well, as he laughed with glee as he felt, for the first time ever since he lost his legs, he felt free. "Oh yeah! I can fly!"


	2. Duty After Death-1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Starcraft or its affiliates.**

Duty After Death: Part 1

"…and so, I pronounce you man and wife!"

The crowd cheered as the black hair man and the white hair woman leaned in and kissed each other, people getting up on their feet and clapping. At last, a worthy king for Terrazine! How long has it been since the last one past away? Far too long in many of the attendees' opinion! Nobles needed aid in helping to rule after all, specifically aid in the form of payment.

But underneath that supposedly joy, there was much tension in the air regarding the bloodline of the royal family. The new King bought with him a son, already halfway a man. The reigning Queen had a sickly daughter who was not expected to live long. That meant, in this marriage, the man was getting the upper hand as his bloodline had to be officially recognized as that of the royal Terrazine line. As a result, the young son was destined to be king one day.

Of course, Tarn could care less about and more about the ancient Terrazine Kingdom, a faction that had long faded into the ancient inked paper his gloved fingers now traced along. "Stars…alignment…" He muttered, frowning as he got to a particularly tricky section of the runes and paused.

With swift and precise movements, he flipped the long red hair over his shoulder and leaned to the side, green eyes scanning through the thick black rimmed glasses the titles on the bookshelf. His black gloved hand ran along them until stopping at a one in particular and yanking it out of the row of musty books. A cloud of dust followed, but Tarn didn't care as he opened the new book up, flipping through pages quickly until finding what he needed.

The eight year old bent over in his basic wooden chair as he worked feverishly on the text, trying to decipher an ancient language that had certainly been long forgotten. He was trying in hope to win the royal family's heart by figuring out a cure to the mysterious disease that had struck the princess of late. Perhaps then, he would finally-

"Ahem."

Tarn frantically stood up and whirled around, shutting the books closed with force in a panic as he smoothed out his slightly wrinkled outfit, a butler's outfit with coattails and high collars. "A-afternoon sir! How may I help you!" The red head boy shakily asked, trying to recall protocol as he placed a hand over his chest.

"Aren't you a little young to be the librarian around here?" A black hair teen asked with a hint of teasing in his voice, leaning over to show the massive height difference them. Tarn bristled on the inside, but forced his feelings down as he impassively stared back up at the offending boy. After a while, the newcomer laughed and patted Tarn's shoulder. "No need to be so formal! I'm not royalty yet, treat me like your equal!"

The red hair flinched at the touch, but kept his posture still. "I am only assistant scribe sir. If you require the head librarian, he is currently at the wedding," Tarn curtly explained. "But if you need to find a book, then I am more than certified to help you."

"No need, I'm just taking a look around. Name's Zeb by the way."

"My name is Tarn." The two shook hands and the black haired teen turned to look at the massive collection of books in the Royal Library. He gave a low whistle as he walked between the bookshelves, craning his head side to side to look at the various titles. The red head watched Zeb do so whilst standing still from besides his work desk. "Something you are specifically looking for sir?"

"Oh, no, not really. Again, just wandering around," The black haired teen responded, leaning forwards and examining the books. After a while, Tarn decided that Zeb obviously didn't need his help and turned back to his precious scribe work, sitting back at his desk and hunching over the manuscripts. The eyes behind the glasses narrowed once again as the well-dressed boy began scribbling again, the green orbs flickering back and forth from his paper and the ancient text.

While Tarn reengaged his work, Zeb found himself a book. His fingers ran along its spine before pulling it out and cracked open the volume, a cloud of dust immediately flying outwards. He coughed once from the debris but quickly waved it away as he focused on the page. A low growl was heard as he slammed it shut and roughly shoved the book back where it once was. Without even bothering to glance at the title, Zeb grabbed the next one in the lineup and yanked it out, opening it and scowling at the gibberish. Again, he replaced it and went for the next one with no success at all.

The noise of Zeb's growing frustration broke Tarn's concentration and the red head turned to see the teen practically strangling the book he now had in his hands. "Be careful! Most of these books are the last copies in the kingdom!" He shouted, leaning back in his char to get a better view. "Unless you want to be translating these from the translations back to old Terrazine, then please refrain from mishandling them!"

"Translations?" Zeb froze in his rampage and looked at Tarn. "Where?"

"Right here." He pointed at the stack of books on his own desk, all of them transcribed by the boy himself. "Which one are you looking for anyway? There's a few dozen here, it'll take days if you want to read them all."

"Fine, is there one about diseases? Or unnatural ailments?" The teen bluntly asked and Tarn blinked in surprise. "Oh! So there is one! Where is it?"

Here, a slightly panicked expression appeared on Tarn and he casually leaned over the manuscript he was working on, standing up from his chair in the process. "Well…um…it hasn't been translated yet! Yes, it's not done yet!"

"Not done yet huh?" Zeb raised an eyebrow and approached Tarn's desk. "You wouldn't happen to be working on it now, would you?"

 _No no no! I can't let him figure out the cure before I do!_ The boy frantically clutched at straws, but there were none for him to even begin looking for. In reality… _I…I never stood a chance did I?_

"Here." Tarn's shoulders slumped as he lifted his hand and showed the manuscript he was working on. "I've got most of it translated, so there shouldn't be a problem for you," He admitted, trying to keep the bitter tone out of his voice as his chance of social elevation evaporated.

Instead of grabbing the exposed parchment as expected, Zeb stared at Tarn, shocked. "What, that's it? No real attempt to keep this out of my hands?" The teen asked, reaching over and taking the translation without any struggle whatsoever. He didn't even glance at it as he placed it on top of Tarn's stack of books. "I'm surprised! You wanted to hide this, but you didn't. Why?"

"Cause there's no point." The red head crashed back into his chair with very little energy and took off his glasses, trying to rub away the tears of disappointment. "I guess…I'll have to find another way to advance myself. Yes, I'll just go a different route…"

"Advance yourself? Advance to where?"

"Higher up in the family rankings. That's why I've been working here for years…"

At this response, Zeb fell silent and looked down at the sniffling scribe. His blue eyes grew hard as he realized the hurdles in the boy's path and the work he had put into this. And this was the attitude Tarn had been taught to live with? "No."

"What?"

"Come!" With a lunge, the black haired teen gripped onto the red head's wrist and all but dragged him off the chair. Tarn was easily taken off guard by the sudden gesture and was helpless as he stumbled along behind Zeb, not knowing what really was going to happen. He tried yanking his wrist free, but the older boy's grip was too tough. How in the world was it this strong for one so young?!

Soon, the two were outside the marble white castle/mansion that was the home of the Terrazine royal family. Zeb finally released his hand and allowed Tarn to stumble forwards a few steps before falling on his hands and knees from confusion. The young boy looked up and around to see that they were in the backyard area of the estate, known for its beautiful flowers and mysterious and ancient ruins dotted in the landscape.

But that wasn't where the two actually were. Rather, they were in the training yard; an area normally reserved for the Royal Guards of the Palace to train at. Of course, there was nobody here; all the soldiers were busy doing the security detail. That meant that Zeb and Tarn had free reign of the place.

And the teen intended to take advantage of that. While Tarn regained his bearings, Zeb found a crate of wooden practice weapons and rummaged through them, tossing aside falchion and gladius as he muttered to himself. By the time the red head was back on his feet and in control of his body, Tarn found himself staring down a very serious looking Zeb as the teen held a wooden weapon up to face level.

"Where I come from…we resolve these issues with a fight!" The black haired boy cried out as he swung his weapon to the side. He tried holding back the strike but countless hours of training overrode that safety concern and he swung at full power, even with only one hand. However, instincts kicked in and the red head boy rolled backwards, eyes narrowing behind the glasses as he analyzed the weapon.

"Bastard sword," The young boy muttered, glancing to the side for the crate of wooden blades. Zeb took the opportunity to lunge in, but Tarn sidestepped with incredible speed of somebody trained and grabbed two weapons randomly out of the crate before his opponent's sword smashed it in half. "That…that's incredible strength," The scribe stuttered.

With a flick of his fake weapon, Zeb brought the blade up to his eyes as he clasped both hands around the handle at his waist. "Well, I have to be if I am to lead a kingdom," He replied, shifting his stance rapidly as the blade came down and Zeb dashed at Tarn, focused on ending the duel in one upwards slash.

But he didn't quite expect Tarn's reaction to be so quick. With a flash from his glasses tilting in the sun's direction, the young boy looked down at his impromptu weapons and realized what they were: a long thin wooden blade similar to the style favored by the nations to the Far East (in his right hand), and a wooden short sword (in his left hand). Easily enough to counter this attack!

Tarn's eyes narrowed as he met Zeb's orbs directly, showing no sign of flinching as the red head flipped the sword so that he was holding it like a dagger instead, and met the older boy's attack straight on with a slash forwards. The two blades clacked as met, Zeb's eyes narrowing as he grunted, his attack held by Tarn's left arm as it pushed against the bastard sword. However, the teen already knew what was coming and broke off with a spin, barely dodging the counter swing from Tarn's other blade. "That's more like it!" Zeb roared, letting out a flurry of wild blows as he spun backwards.

The red head didn't even care about whom he was attacking now; this was his natural skill! "Let's see how you take this!" Tarn shouted, his voice significantly high due to his young tones but never quavering as he broke through Zeb's guard with his left sword, using the wooden blade to bring a halt to the teen's attack as his right sword lunged in, the additional length of it ensuring that it could at least nick its target before they could even react.

And yet, Zeb did react in time, swiftly breaking contact with the short blade again and twirling his wooden sword at an odd angle, catching Tarn's lunge with a flick and knocking it aside from its course. His blade seemed to sing as it swung sideways, intent on making contact with the younger boy's neck as the red head overextended his counter attack- A sudden flare of pain in Zeb's shoulder caused him to break the rhythm and stumble back, shocked by the blow that came out of nowhere.

Tarn flinched as his sudden surprise strike ended up shattering the short wooden blade and leapt back, unwilling to stake his partner's shoulder for the sake of a duel. "Zeb!" He shouted in alarm, moving swiftly to the kneeling teen's side. "Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine, don't worry," The black haired boy responded, experimentally rotating his shoulder and noticing that it was merely sore. A bruise would probably form there later, that was hardly an issue worthy of medical attention. "But you, my friend, seem to have a lot more tricks up your sleeve than I ever expected. Never underestimate one's age I suppose! Where did you learn how to duel like that?"

"There!" The two boys immediately whirled around, eyes wide as they found themselves staring down a phalanx of royal guardsmen. The soldiers didn't seem particularly happy about their exclusive training yard being used without consent, and spears were leveled at the intruders. "Who the hell are you two! And what makes you think that you can use the Royal Training Yard!?"

"Oh…um…" Tarn made a panicked step backwards as he dropped his practice weapons. "We were…cleaning! Yes, cleaning!"

"The hell it is cleaning! Arrest them and throw them into the dungeons!" The captain ordered and began advancing towards the two. The red head's eyes grew wide as he turned to make a break for it, but was grabbed surprisingly by Zeb. The young boy looked questioningly and confused into the teen's eyes, only to find in them a look of somebody about to pull rank. "Hey! I said-"

"Captain! On my orders, you are to cease and desist!" The black haired boy suddenly announced, drawing himself to his full height and striding forwards. The Royal Guards all immediately aimed their weapons to him, but Zeb didn't even flinch and instead stood there, waiting expectantly as the lead soldiers blustered. "I have full rights to train here with whomever I chose to duel with! Therefore, you have no grounds for arrest."

"And who the blithering hell do you think you are, giving out orders like that?!" The captain spluttered, his face a vivid shade of red. "You're not the Queen!"

"No. But I am the Queen's new son." A collective gasp from everybody was heard, Tarn included as Zeb declared his relationship to royalty. "Yes, I am him; the new Prince of Terrazine, Prince Zeb!"

There was a moment of silence was the statement sunk in, broken finally by the Captain of the Royal Guards. "Proof!" He spat, throwing aside his spear in favor of a short sword drawn from his belt. "Give me proof by the virtue of a duel!"

Tarn quickly scrambled backwards and the other Royal Guards withdrew as well as the two swordsmen were given room for their upcoming duel. The red head couldn't help but notice that Zeb was still clutching his bad arm, the one upon which Tarn had shattered his blade into. Additionally….that was a real blade the Captain was using and Zeb was still using a wooden bastard sword! "Hold it, we can't have a fair duel with an injured combatant!" The boy with glasses hollered, trying to figure a way to get Zeb out of this mess. "By fair laws of dueling, both fighters must be-"

"Like I care about the laws of dueling!" The Captain roared, twisting and thrusting forwards with his blade, aimed straight for Zeb's throat! Tarn tried to shout, but found that his chords just wouldn't respond as his eyes watched the metal edge creep closer and closer to his new friend's exposed skin-

Quicker than the eye could possibly follow, Zeb flicked his blade upwards, catching the metal with the wooden blade and shoving out of the way. The surprise deflect caused the Guard to stumble forwards, smashing his face right into the follow up hilt bash from the black haired teen as he tilted the bottom of his sword upwards and jolted. The Captain cried from pain and stumbled backwards, losing balance just as the Prince of Terrazine finished the combo via a quick two-handed uppercut slash to the chest.

"Arggghhhh!" The man shouted as he crashed backwards, his armored front side in pain despite only being struck with a wooden blade. His men quickly surrounded and pulled him out, and the Captain immediately saw the cause of his pain: a massive dent in his breastplate, inflicted by Zeb's final strike. He locked eyes with the victor of the duel, who smiled mirthlessly as he asked,

"That enough proof?"

There was a moment of tension as it looked as though the Captain would attack Zeb again, but he seemed to check himself and hold whatever pride he had left close to his chest. "If you truly are Prince Zeb, then I would like to apologize for my brash actions," The Royal Guard muttered, gritting his teeth. "My lord, I plead for forgiveness."

"You are released from all transgressions. Now, return to your duties," Zeb commanded and the Royal Guards all took the chance to flee, escaping the sight of the Prince in case he was feeling any bit spiteful. Ludicrous, in Zeb's opinion, but understandable. If the rumors of his father were true… "Well Tarn, I have to say, that was interesting."

Silence. Zeb frowned and turned around. Tarn was nowhere to be seen. Rather, all that was ever left of his presence was a long wooden blade and a broken short sword.

O O O

"That should be it!" Tarn exclaimed, stuffing the last of his suits into the leather bag and quickly shutting it up. He made one last glance around his now bare room in the servant's quarters, briefly immersing himself in the memories of all the late night sessions he'd had before shaking his head clear of such folly and opening the door with a mighty slam.

"Aren't you in a hurry?"

At the sight of a mildly amused Zeb, the red head groaned and threw the bag back onto the plain bed, collapsing next to it a second later. "I give up. You are always a freaking step ahead of me!" Tarn complained as he took of his glasses and just laid there. "How'd you know I was going to try and leave?"

"Easy. You're not confident about yourself," The Royal Prince of Terrazine explained, entering the room and shutting the door behind him. "You are unsure of everything you do; even just the act of talking to me now must be making you feel uncomfortable!"

"Well, talking to the Crown Prince tends to do that to anybody."

"True," Zeb laughed and leaned against the back of the room's door, letting his head simply rest against the wood. "But the real reason you fled was because you were afraid of retribution from me. That is just flat out silly I might add though, the sword breaking wasn't something anybody could've expected."

"Are…are you sure?" Tarn quickly sat up in his bed and looked in the eyes of the older boy. "You…you're not mad?"

"No. In fact, I'm impressed. Where did you learn your skill?" When the nervous younger boy didn't answer immediately, Zeb sighed and waved his hands. "I learned mine from my father. 'A king should know how to conduct himself in battle.' Rubbish at the time cause there was no way that I would ever rise to this position."

"But you did."

"Yeah, through some dirty tricks my father pulled." Zeb sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "He bribed, cheated, stole, blackmailed to position himself close to the Royal Family. Just so that when they needed a male suitor, he was the first in line."

"Inspiring story and all, but how does that relate-" Tarn froze mid-sentence and blinked, his face suddenly warping into a peculiar expression as he stared at his friend. "He…he didn't!"

"One such thing he had to do was rid this family close to the Terrazine Royal Family. They weren't particularly powerful, just a bunch of loyal and skilled duelists looking out for the best of the kingdom. But they knew too much about my father's intentions- they had to be removed from the picture."

While Zeb kept talking, Tarn slowly reached back into his coat and felt for a cloth covered hilt, feeling it naturally fit in his gloved hand as he wrapped his digits around them. A quiet click made the young boy flinch, but his eyes were still narrowed as his free hand snatched back up his spectacles. Contrary to expectations, the prince still talked.

"So, one lonely night, he ordered a coup. A coup that would murder all the members of that family in one swift strike. There were high casualties of course, thanks to the family all being skilled in the ways of the blade, but there was simply too many. And so they died out-"

With a livid cry, the red head leapt up from his bed and slammed Zeb into the doorframe, his eyes wild as a steel blade was pressed against Zeb's throat with alarming force. The teen slightly choked from the sensation as Tarn hissed, "I'll finish the tale.

"They killed everybody. Every man, woman, apprentice, servant, child, anybody who had even the slightest relationship to the family. But they missed one: a child, who hid beneath the corpses that were his parents to escape the killing."

"So the rumors said."

"What else did they say?!" Tarn snarled with a ferocity that no boy his age should've had, pushing the thin blade harder against the other boy's throat. A trickle of blood dripped down as the edge broke skin, but it wasn't life threatening. "What else did the survivors tell you?!"

"That as they burned the bodies, the young boy rose from the ashes that were his family, his hair red as the blood that coated him," Zeb whispered. "His eyes were a livid lime color that reflected the hatred of his soul as he took the blade of his father and had his retribution. The surviving assassins that came limping to my father reported that they had managed to kill him…"

"Evidently not. I escaped." Suddenly, Tarn pulled back his blade and, with a flourished, sheathed the sword back into its leather container. "And for three years, I've been working for my revenge against your father. Getting close to the Royal Family, reestablishing my family's broken position…"

"Three years…that means you were only five when you killed half the assassins sent out?" Zeb winced and rubbed his throat wound, but sounded impressed. "I guess the rumors of your family are true after all. You are master swordsmen."

"A normal knight begins their sword training at 10. We start from the minute we know how to sharpen a blade. Also, most of that story is a lie: I only killed three of them. The rest of the assassins were backstabbing each other in effort to get the highest pay." With a sigh, the red head boy in a butler suit stepped back and leaned against the lone table in the room. He glanced upwards at the wounded prince. "Know that I hold nothing against you though; sins of the father do not mean the sins of the child. I know that better than anybody else."

"Well, but still, he is my father." Finally dropping the pretense of a wounded royal, Zeb lunged with lightning speed and drew his bastard sword, impaling the metal blade right into the wall next to Tarn. The stones making up the wall melted like butter as the prince leaned into the scribe. The boy didn't even flinch as he gazed coldly from behind the glasses and the black haired teen grinned. "He's a rightful ass though. I think that makes him neutral in my books, and so, I am obliged to defend him…for now."

"Then I suppose we'll have to duel it out."

"Right you are. Training field?"

"Sounds about right."


	3. Duty After Death-2

Sparks flew as both metal blades collided with each other, their owners both grunting from exertion as they pushed hard against their opponent. Zeb had the advantage with a two handed weapon, but all Tarn had to do was hold out as he flipped the short wooden sword in his other hand and slashed, breaking off the sword clash for the attack.

With elegant smoothness that only he could pull off, the black haired teen caught the wooden blade with the hilt of his bastard sword and batted it away, following up with a direct slash downwards. However, Tarn had in retaliation lunged out with a foot and smashed the sole into Zeb's stomach, causing his foe to stumble backwards as the red head slashed with his real blade. Again, Zeb deftly caught it with his two handed sword and the two were caught in a sword lock again.

"Break!" At the shout, both of them leapt back, making sure that the other understood that the duel was over as they twirled and sheathed their swords, bowing out of respect. Then they collapsed onto the dirt ground, both of them completely out of breath as the soldiers training all around them likewise followed. Apparently, dueling nonstop for a couple hours at a time took all the stamina out of young men.

But at the same time, both Tarn and Zeb had stronger grown thanks to the training from the Royal Guards over the last year or so. Their respective sword skills may be already at a skill matched by only legends, but their stamina is nonexistent. And as the Captain of the Guard so bluntly told them, "In the battlefield, there aren't breaks for those without energy!"

"Hey Zeb," Tarn began, shielding his eyes form the sun he stared up at by holding an arm over the pupils. "Do you resent me for wanting to kill your father?"

"Not really. He's an ambitious and aggressive and stupid: a dangerous combination that can only spell doom in the long term." Zeb groaned as he rotated his sword arm, feeling the muscles scream in pain. "He needs to be removed from power, and quickly. I don't know how though."

"Me neither."

"It's been a year and you still don't have a plan?"

"Do you?"

"Fair enough." The two shot grins at each other as they slowly staggered back onto their feet, obviously done for the day as they signaled to the gruff Guard Captain about their departure. While walking pass, Tarn tossed the now broken wooden short sword into the trash crate, adding yet another smashed wooden blade to the pile that he himself created. "You really should find yourself another actual weapon," Zeb remarked upon seeing the contents of the wooden container.

"I know, but all the real short blade weapons I've tried are way to light for my taste," Tarn complained, quickly matching pace with the prince as the two walked down the corridor in the Royal Palace. Even though only a year has passed, the added load of daily duels had ensured that Tarn was now only half a few hairs shorter than Zeb, despite the rough five year age difference they had. Perhaps it was puberty finally kicking in. "Even with the practice swords, I've had to use a denser wood type just to get the proper weight for a fair fight."

"So you would favor using something a bit heavier as your secondary?"

"Right. I'm thinking maybe trying out a bladed shield, or maybe even a sickle. Still, it's important that I get as much practice in as possible."

"But of course."

"What are you two doingggg?" The two boys paused in their walk down the hallway and turned around, facing the owner of the rather childish whine. A young toddler girl with midnight black hair was standing there, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she let a stuffed doll of a phoenix hang from her other hand. "Zebbbbbb, I'm really really tired!"

"Oh? Then shouldn't you be in bed dear Xana?" The young man grinned as he bent down and scooped up his sister-in-law into his arms, holding her carefully as he walked back down the hall and into a door. "You're going to need all the rest you can get if you want to get better soon!"

"But I've been sleeping a lot, really!" The young princess argued, not offering any resistance as her brother laid her down back on the bed and tucked her in. "And sometimes, I really sleep a lot! It's really dark and cozy when that happens!"

For a moment, as Tarn looked into the room, he saw a rare emotion presenting itself on the prince's face: Fear. It was only a moment, but the red head saw the black haired boy's eyes widen as well as his lips turning pale. His body shook for a second before calming, Zeb intent on showing only care for his sister in name. "It's alright Xana," He reassured, sitting down on the bed and running a hand through her hair. "Everything's going to be just fine. I swear, I'll make this right."

"Really?" She nervously peeked out from under the blankets, hugging her toy even harder. "You promise?"

"Yes…I promise."

Tarn silently looked on as Zeb kissed his sister on the forehead and, after checking that all the drapes were securely closed, gently close the door to the bedroom behind him. The minute the latch clicked shut, the prince let out a sigh and slumped against the door, sliding down it as he gathered his thoughts. However, the red head was the first to break the silence. "How long?"

"Our best estimate is a month," Was the quiet reply. "A month before…before her power…blossoms."

"Then we will have to enact the plan tonight," Tarn declared, shifting forwards and grabbing his sword hilt. "Everything is ready: the maps, the canteens, the lanterns."

"Right…right…" Zeb again let out a breath of despair as he thumped his head against the door. "We're going tomb raiding today. Wonderful. I should've taken a nap earlier."

"Are you prepared?"

"Never better. Let's do it."

O O O

"Are you sure this is the one?" Zeb asked skeptically as he examined the runes on the stone table, the carving barely visible in the moonlight. The prince knelt down and carefully blew against the rock, scattering the dust and debris that could've gathered in a thousand years of being a decorative ruin in the Royal Palace's Garden. "I mean, this is an odd location. I recall Mother telling me that this one was the oddest one out of them all, being quite a ways off from the other ruins."

"According to the translations, the pavilion of the gateway is located here," Tarn insisted, glancing around to make sure the two were alone. "Ancient records can't lie Zeb; the tomb entrance must be here!"

"I'm not seeing anything though!" The black haired teen insisted, throwing up his hands out of frustration. "What the bloody hell do these runes say anyway?! 'Abandon all hope ye who enter?!'"

"No, that's not it." The red head boy sighed and took out a book from under his coat, riffling it open to a page and glancing between the paper and stone. "It says 'Blood through honor, honor the past.'"

"I was close enough. Blood…." Zeb's eyes had an odd look in them as he tugged off a glove and tossed it to Tarn, who fumbled slightly between the glove and the book. "I have an idea, something that Mother also mentioned" He muttered, drawing out his bastard sword with his other hand.

"I think know what you're doing. Be careful."

"I will." Taking in a deep breath, Zeb raised the exposed palm and pressed his sword against the skin. With a hiss, he quickly sliced and winced as the blood began flowing freely out of the newly created wound. The prince immediately held it over the stone table and the two watched as the recently anointed blood of the Royals drip onto the runes. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, the runes glowed a neon green color, shining brightly in the dark night as the entire stone pavilion they were standing on shook and rumbled. Behind Tarn, he heard something grinding and turned to see a section of the ground give way, a secret stone trapdoor opening up. "There!"

"I see, but first…" Zeb awkwardly gestured and the red head quickly took out a roll of bandages, wrapping it securely around the prince's open wound on his palm. But when Tarn offered back the glove, the older boy shook his head and glanced down at the blossoming red color against the white rough cloth. "Let's go. Not much time to waste!"

Together, the two slowly clambered down the rather small hole in the ruins, finding a small set of stairs leading and spiraling downwards. Just as Zeb managed to duck his head in, the trapdoor immediately resealed over them, ensuring that leaving now wasn't an option. They had to proceed downwards into the tomb.

"How welcoming," Tarn remarked, drawing out his own weapon and holding it up just in case. At the same time, he brought from another section of his coat a small lantern. With a few clicks, the flint and steel sparked and a light lit up the darkness, occupying Tarn's other hand. "Shall we?"

"Let's," Zeb agreed, holding up his sword as well as the two made their way down the stone stairs, wary of whatever may lurk in the shadows ahead. The light glinted off their stainless blades and aided showing what was ahead through the reflection, but it wasn't anything that stretched particularly far. The two boys felt a slow chill take over them as they went deeper and deeper, intruding on something ancient and asleep. The question was, would they wake a slumbering giant or find a cure?

The stairs eventually leveled out and led into a giant room that made both of them whisper prayers to the gods as they found the main tomb. Or rather, _tombs_. As if that was reassuring.

Zeb and Tarn were now standing in a massive room made entirely of a grey metallic material, with multiple floors that must stretch all the way to the surface from which they arrived from. On each floor were coffins laid against the walls, dozens of them, all emblazoned with a single logo: a skull with emerald jeweled eyes. There had to be hundreds, maybe even thousands of these tombs that were stored upwards like this!

"Look!" The red head boy whispered, casting his lantern outwards as they both looked down at their feet. There were multiple indented segments of the floor, all of them leading upwards and branching off in each floor, then further diversifying as they lead into a coffin. "This must be a 'power conduit'! I've read about them; through a single 'console,' entire armies could be activated by a single command."

"That must be the activation console over there then," Zeb pointed and indeed, there was an odd machine of sorts on a stand in the center of the room, with multiple buttons and a glass screen. "I think we shouldn't go near it, huh?"

"Best we don't," Tarn agreed, taking a cautious step forward and swinging the lantern around. "There. Look."

On one side of the room, there was a massive shrine, made out of various metal pieces and carved with runes. A glance at a few of the runes was enough to make Tarn shiver in fear from what ancient Terrazine must have done. On the other side, there was a coffin laying down, elevated from the ground. It must belong to somebody of worthy note.

Zeb had the same idea and moved forwards to the coffin, only to pause and groan, pointing at the ground. "The conduit links up the tomb and console. I think that trying to pry open the tomb would activate the console. Let's avoid that."

"The shrine, there might be something," Tarn suggested, walking carefully over to the abhorrent display of faith and examining it. He carefully placed the lamp down, sheathed his sword, and took back out his book, flipping through it as he translated what was inscribed in the metal sheets and pieces. Most of them were just blessings for - the red head was tempted to say they translated to weapons? No, that's ridiculous!

And yet…Tarn's foot suddenly nudged something and he looked down to see an odd tool strewn haphazardly on the shrine. It was something that looked to be a hybrid of a sickle and an axe, taking the general shape of the former but having the thickness of the later. He put his book away and bent down, grabbing the handle and lifting. To the boy's great surprise, he lifted it as though it was just as heavy as the wooden weighted short swords he used. "Huh," Tarn mused, feeling the grip and attempting a swing. "Not much range but…could be devastating. Zeb!"

"What?"

"Check this out!" The red head intended to toss the odd weapon he found over to the prince for his opinion, but, as Tarn's arm went down and up in an underhand toss, something went wrong. Or did it? The moment his hand left the hilt of the weapon, it went flying as if tossed in that direction and weighing several tons. "Woah!"

"Ack!" Zeb quickly ducked as the weapon whizzed over his head. It showed no signs of stopping and instead smashed into one of the coffins on the ground level, caving the metal top in as if pressured by tons instead of a simple sickle-axe. The black haired teen cautiously glanced backwards at the thrown weapon. "What the hell is that?!"

"I'm not sure!" Tarn replied, his voice slightly trembling as he noticed the shattered coffin. "I hope that we just didn't-"

"ERROR. ERROR DETECTED." The two whirled around to seen the control console blink to life, a robotic voice sounding from it. "DISTURBANCE IN POD NUMBER 42. INITIATING STAGE 1 DEFENSE."

"That doesn't sound good!" Tarn shouted, drawing out his weapon and holding it with his right hand. A sudden movement at the edge of his eyes caught attention and he shouted, "Zeb!"

The prince's eyes flickered and he immediately crouched downwards, getting under the lunging attacker and instead back swiping, beheading the offender in one movement. "What is it?" Zeb coolly asked, returning back to a ready guard position with his sword being gripped firmly in both hands. "Any idea?"

"Some kind of metal machine bug thing," Tarn replied, gesturing with his head back to the entrance of the stairs from which they came. More and more of the things were flying out of it at high speeds, all of them bearing a single eye locked onto the two. "Incoming!"

"I see them!" The two quickly back up into each other, giving affirmative nods before charging in. The machines were quick but not dangerous, as they mainly were trying to latch on and claw, but they were no match for the two blurred blades that hacked and slashed apart the attackers. Soon, all that was left of them were sparking and broken parts. "Tarn, tell me that was it."

"INITIATING STAGE 2 DEFENSE."

"I doubt it Zeb!" Tarn yelled, raising his blade as even more of them began flying out of the tunnels. "Get to the console and shut this thing down! I'll hold them off!"

"Got it!" There wasn't a bickering fight about who defended each other, this was not the time for honor! As the boy nimbly and deftly did the work of an entire squad of soldiers, Zeb strode over to the console and, with a might swing, decoupled it from the stand. Wires were cut and the machine was sent flying sideways, landing on the floor. "I hope that worked!"

"I hope so to-" Suddenly, an ominous blasting noise was heard and Tarn instinctively sidestepped, and not a moment too late. A green burst of energy slammed into where he stood just seconds before and erupted, giving the boy a blast of hot air as the blast dissipated. "What the hell!"

Zeb looked up and saw that the shot came from a…skeleton? But it wasn't one! It was made out of this grey metallic material and had glowing green circuits, akin to an automaton toy that children played with. But this toy was holding a smoking weapon of sorts, and was most likely hostile. It had emerged from one of the many coffins in the floor, the circuit leading into the container glowing green as power gave life.

Looking past the machine soldier, Zeb's eyes widened as more and more coffin lids opened up through circuit power and more of these things stepped out, bearing to arms already weapons at the intruding duo. "Tarn! Keep moving, don't let them pin you!" The prince shouted, dashing and weaving as multiple bursts of energy rained down upon the ground floor. "What are those weapons?!"

"They look awfully a lot like what the Easterners call 'fire weapons!'" Tarn replied, rolling just to avoid a shot. "From what I've heard and read, getting hit means death!"

"Then don't get hit!" Zeb growled. "Any ideas?!"

"Kill the leader before he can rise!" The boy shouted, pointing at the elevated tomb on the ground floor. Already, the circuit to that was glowing green. Any moment, that lid could open! "Cut off the head, the rest should die! Hopefully!"

"Well, here's to hopefully!" The prince of Terrazine shouted, charging forwards through the blasts and lunging just as the lid cracked open and something gripped the sides and pulled. "Yaaahhhhh!"

The bastard sword sank through the chest cavity with no resistance, leaving Zeb in direct face to face contact with an impassive metal skull with glowing green eyes. When he realized the thing wasn't dead, the teen roared and lifted his sword, tearing through the "bones" like a knife through hot butter as he ripped the blade from the awakened foe. Surely, it must be-!

"Ack!" Something wrapped around his throat and pulled, slamming Zeb's head into the side of the metallic tomb and dazing him. He stumbled backwards, trying to regain his senses as he glanced up and, to his horror, watched the machine come back together. The sheared metal knitted itself together, the circuits reconnected, it all pulled back without any hesitation. "No...no way!" He stammered.

"Zeb! Are you alright?!" Tarn shouted, suddenly appearing next to the prince and pulling him onto his feet. "We'll take him together! Charge!"

"No, wait!"

Already though, the red head leapt at the machine lord, swinging his blade in a sideways slashing motion. But the automated creation was too quick to react and countered by a jab to the chest with a staff of sorts, brought out of its own tomb. The ominous noise of shattering bone was heard as Tarn was unceremoniously batted off to the side, the boy crashing into the metallic floor with a thud and his blade following with a clatter.

"You-!" Zeb yelled and decided to charge as well, this time leaping with a downward slash directly to the face of this monster. The robot again was quick to react and grabbed the bastard sword with its spare hand, snapping the blade effortlessly and slamming Zeb down to the side.

But the prince wasn't out, as he shouted again and knocked the robot's legs, bringing the thing down as he took the broken shard tip that was his sword and plunged it directly into the lord's chest. "RAGGGHHHHHH!" He screamed, yanking out his broken sword and stabbing again. And again. And again!

The robot tried to repair, but Zeb's relentless attacks gave it no time as he just butchered the thing, shouting with every attack as the machine's green glow of life flickered and dimmed, eventually fading out. "AND STAY DOWN!" He yelled, slamming his palm into the battered forehead and slamming the head against the floor. Immediately, the prince recoiled with a hiss of pain as he realized his mistake of using his bandaged hand.

"Zeb!" Tarn shouted, quickly flipping back onto his feet and slashing backwards instinctively. His blade hissed as it decapitated an approaching robot warrior on the backhand edge, followed by a torso/chest slice forwards, ensuring that it would be down for a while. "Are you alright!"

"I'm fine! Just this stupid blood sacrifice!" Zeb shouted, yanking out his broken sword and grimacing at the sight of such a ruined art. "You don't happen to have a spare?"

"None at all, just get behind me!" The red head boy quickly made his way in front of the prince and raised his blade, glancing back at the injured and battered royal. "Quickly, escape! I'll hold them off for you!"

"Are you kidding? No way!" With a calm and focused intake of breath, Zeb raised his broken blade up with his bandaged hand and grinned. "With this broken sword and this blood that flows through my palms, I've sworn already to defend those who are my family."

"Family?"

"Those who would stand besides me like this and yell at me to get away. Those people," With an elegant swish, the Prince of Terrazine raised his shattered weapon and brandished it at the slowly advancing robotic warriors, "are the ones that I'll lay down my life for! So sorry!"

While Tarn wasn't looking, Zeb lashed out with his intact arm and slammed the boy backwards, making it so that the young red head was now the one away from danger. "What!" Tarn exclaimed, glasses askew as he glanced up. "No! Prince Zeb!"

"It's just Zeb, you got that?!" He roared, bringing the dagger-like tip back and charging forwards into the line of robots. "AND I'LL PROTECT MY FAMILY!"

There was a flash of bright light as Tarn watched in horror as the living machines opened fire at the charging injured swordsmen, the intensity of the flash so great that he had to shield his eyes from the incineration of his prince. "Goddammit NO!" He shouted, gripping his sword even tighter as he rolled onto his feet and raised the thin long blade. "I…I won't run! I'll-!"

A massive gust of cold air choked Tarn short as he was blown forcefully back, but managed to stay on his feet as his coat trailed in the sudden wind. The red head shut his eyes from the force, careful not to let go of his weapon as his teeth began to chatter from the sudden drop in temperature. When he opened his eyes, Tarn was immediately greeted with visible breath as he realized that it was now cold enough for condensation, and even further as he realized that everything was frozen.

Literally.

The death machines were encased in blocks of solid and clear ice, their green pulse of light now dimmed and gone. The entire room of coffins was covered in a thin layer of frost and snow, sealing every crack and freezing all the awakening robots. Where the control panel was is a massive glacier of ice that stretched up to the roof, something that surely wouldn't be melted easily.

And in the middle of the room, surrounded by a misty ring of cold air, was Zeb. But was it really? He stood taller, more confident. His eyes lost the tinge of pain that had been apparent during the fight, and was now replaced with steely will and a hint of wisdom. His black hair was now a pure silver white color, flowing past his shoulders and ending at waist level.

The most noticeable change however was his sword. No longer was it a broken blade; now, it was an ornate and regal broadsword, an emblem of a skull emblazoned on the pale blue cross guard. Runes of the ancient Terrazine language were etched into the center of the blade, the name of Zeb's new blade, forged out of blood and willpower. _Frozen Throne._

"Zeb…" Tarn stumbled forwards, almost tripping on the icy flooring as he reached out to his friend. "Are…are you…?"

The newly reborn prince turned around and almost instinctively, the young red head boy raised his blade in self-defense. But it was unnecessary, as Zeb simply grinned, a familiar grin that Tarn had seen for months now. "I feel great. This…this is the power that I was seeking to protect my family!" He laughed, experimentally swinging his broadsword with one hand. It whistled as it moved through the air, cutting through the heat and infecting it with chilly winds. "Tarn! I know how to cure my sister now!"

"You do?!" His companion exclaimed. "Then let's leave this blasted and forsaken place and hurry back to the palace! Every second that we linger, the lower Xana's life force weakens!"

"Right. Allow me to lead the way friend." Without any further need for discussion, the two quickly exited the now frozen tomb. Tarn glanced behind once to see, lying on the ground not far from where it smashed against, the axe he had thrown. He made a mental note to come back later and retrieve it if possible; it was a good weapon.

The cool night sky greeted the two tomb raiders as the stone slab opened up without any blood sacrifice this time. But just as the entrance to the hidden lair sealed back up… "THERE THEY ARE!" A man bellowed and before either swordsman could draw their weapons, spears were pressed against their sides. Both Tarn and Zeb looked warily at the royal palace guards who just stared back from under the visors. "Prince Zeb! Your father called for you hours ago!"

"I was…busy," He smoothly replied, flipping his long silver hair over his shoulder. If the guards noticed the color change of their prince's hair, they pretended not to notice. "What exactly is the issue?"

"It's the Queen. She's gone into labor."

O O O

"THERE YOU ARE!" The King of Terrazine bellowed as both Zeb and Tarn were shown into the throne room of the palace. A wall of spears prodded them forwards as they reluctantly stepped closer to the red faced man. "Where were you?! A new heir to the kingdom is about to be born and you disappear on me! Unacceptable! And what the hell happened to your hair?!"

Tarn glanced to Zeb and could've sworn that the prince's hand twitched towards his sheathed new sword, as if wanting to draw it. But the white haired prince held himself back and remained clam in his tone. "Father, I have been 'enlightened'. I understand who and what I really am supposed to do in this world. And thus, I have been reborn into the person you see tonight."

"So does this mean that you will finally start learning from me how to rule?" A somewhat sadistically joyous tone crept into the King's voice as he leaned forwards. "Does this entail that you will finally accept your role as my heir and dissociate yourself with the unworthy?"

This time, it was Zeb's turn to glance at Tarn as he suddenly remembered what this man did to the teen's family. For now, it seems that the librarian was calm and collected; however, a hand was resting way too easily on his sword's hilt. A quick run up, a quick draw, and everything could collapse. He had to… "No. I will not become King."

At this declaration, even Tarn's jaw dropped as he stared at the calm prince. The man who just renounced his heritage, his legacy. Did he really just say…that he wasn't going to become king willingly? Was this a joke?

Apparently, the King thought so as he burst out into laughter. "You have learned how to become quite a jester! An interesting trait that could potentially win over new allies; I approve! In all seriousness though-"

"In all seriousness, I truly stand by my declaration: I will not become king of Terrazine." With a flick of his hand, _Frozen Throne_ was drawn and slammed into the marble ground of the throne room, the blade sinking easily into the stone. "This blade has revealed to me what really matters to me. It isn't influence or power. It's family, and that always means you're sacrificing something for somebody else. In this case…I know that I truly am not fit for the throne, in both blood and ability. Neither are you to be entirely honest."

"You…you dare?!"

"I don't dare. I call out on a fact, which is fundamentally different. The true heir of this wondrous kingdom isn't Xana either though, as she holds a different destiny, one with a man who holds a vision that I couldn't hope to follow. The real successor to the Queen, old man, is her soon-to-be-born child."

"You ungrateful child! The King yelled, standing from his throne and pointing. "I'll have none of this nonsense! You need time to cool off; guards, escort the prince to his room. We'll let him out to meet his new sibling eventually."

"Yes sir."

"And you." Tarn's eyes hardened the moment the King's glare turned to him. "Who are you and what are you doing with the future king of this land?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Tarn saw Zeb slightly nod, as if encouraging him. The truth had been buried long enough; it was time to cut through the lies. "My name is Tarn."

"No family name? How queer. But I suppose a commoner like you doesn't need one."

"I did have a family name once though, but it was lost to the fires of history. But perhaps you can recognize it, seeing as you were the one to rob me of it."

"What? Wait…" Here, the King took a step back and collided with his throne, visibly shaking. "No…no it can't be! They assured me that you were crippled for life!"

"The only thing they crippled that belonged to me that night was my family. They left me intact," Tarn spoke as he stepped forward, "My revenge intact," Another step, and with a smooth hiss, the thin long blade of his heritage was drawn. "AND THE BLADE THAT I WILL SLAY YOU WITH NOW!" Tarn roared.

"GUARDS!"

"As if I would let you!" With a deliberate twist on his embedded sword, Zeb snarled and held out his hand. Immediately, a cloud of cold fog expanded outwards from the empty palm and filled the entire throne room, sending all inside into confusion as visibility became null. Sheer chaos ensued as the royal guards tried to find this assassin.

He wasn't even in the same room though. The moment he ensured the fog cast was successful, Zeb had grabbed Tarn's wrist and yanked him outside. "I was close!" The boy yelled, turning his blade to his friend. "Don't get in the way!"

"Now is not the time for your revenge!" Zeb whispered, pointing just past Tarn's shoulder. "Down the corridor, a right, then second door to your left. That should be Mother's room; you can get a royal pardon there!"

"What?! Why would I?!"

"Because I need you by my side if we are to truly change this world for the better! I'm off to see to Xana, avoid killing anybody if you can!"

"But isn't-" Without bothering to actually hear Tarn's final objection, Zeb took off, a hand securely gripping the sheath of his sword as his black robes trailed behind him, along with his pure white hair. "-the Queen in labor. Oh wonderful."

The red head boy gave a quick glance back into the fog filled room, almost longingly as his fingers tightened around the sword handle. His life's goal was there; he could avenge his family. It could be all over in five brief heartbeats.

But why was he hesitating? It wasn't like he was afraid to kill. And he certainly wasn't going to lose any sleep over gutting a man.

 _What would my family do?_ Tarn closed his eyes for a brief second, then with an elegant flick of the wrist, sheathed his sword. Revenge was second to serving the Queen. Perhaps Zeb had figured that out about Tarn.

Quickly, he followed the given instructions and came to a plain wooden door that had tightly shut. Several white robed woman were scrambling around outside in the corridor, many carrying bandages and buckets of water. They all froze upon seeing Tarn, and he instinctively glanced down at himself. He hadn't gotten the chance at all to change his clothes between fleeing the tomb and meeting the King, so to say that his butler's combat uniform was slightly ruffled up was a huge understatement, as pretty much half the outfit consisted of slash marks or burn holes or frozen fabric. "Oh. I'm a bit of a mess to seek an audience," The swordsman awkwardly commented.

It was apparently enough to terrify the nurses though and they all fled the marble corridor. Now all that stood between Tarn and the Queen was a simple wooden door. With a deep breath, the boy placed a hand on the silver door handle and pushed it open.

The Queen was lying on her bed, thankfully fully dressed as Tarn entered the room. He caught himself before entering and began to kneel at the threshold, only for a weak chuckle to interrupt him. "That is not necessary. You have traveled and journeyed long and hard to meet me; no more time shall be spent."

"Yes milady." The words felt odd on Tarn's tongue, but felt right at the same time as he made his way into the bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him. "I…I wish for a favor from you my Queen."

"Say no more, I understand the issue you have with my…husband." A flicker of a scowl appeared on the woman's pale face, but it was quickly gone. "Of course I will give you a full pardon, meaning that no matter what, tonight's actions cannot be taken against you."

Tarn blinked at how easily the Queen offered the pardon. Was that it? Just ask and receive? Surely…then he realized that the woman was not finished talking.

"However, I cannot guarantee the time beyond that as one of safety." The Queen coughed, then turned to look at Tarn directly. He immediately fell to his knees and kneeled out of instinct, something embedded in his family's code. The Queen first. "Tell me; what do you think of my son?"

"Zeb?" The bespectacled boy thought for a brief moment before carefully speaking. "He…is a fine prince. A charismatic leader. If he had the slightest ambition, he could execute it with precision that few people can boast to witness. I am willing to follow him."

"As a friend or as a subordinate however?" The Queen interrupted, surprising Tarn with her sudden insight. "Do you want to follow Zeb because he's a good leader and can create a new world? Or do you want to follow him as somebody you can talk to as equals, as friends who can set aside ambition and pour some tea to share with each other? That is what defines a person."

The Queen truly was wise as the legends said. "I…I wish to follow Zeb as both. I wish to have power under my command so as to aid him in his journey to this new world. But I also want to be selfish, and simply pass the time sipping wine with Zeb. I must beg forgiveness for being so-!"

"Not needed, I understand what you want, and I know how to give it." The Queen's hand weakly rose up and pointed at something at the base of her bed, a crib of sorts. "Look in there; tell me, what do you see?"

Was this another test? Tarn rose up slowly and walked over to the white crib, leaning over and peering at what it contained. His hands gripped the metal bars as he realize just who was in there, a small infant with a shock of pure white hair. "Is this…the new princess?"

"The new Queen."

"But…line of succession dictates that Zeb is first, followed by Xana!"

"I do not know, the stars merely predict that little Clara here will guide Terrazine as the future Queen. However…" Another cough, and the boy immediately was alarmed at the sight of blood from the woman's mouth. "As you can tell, I will most likely not be around to raise her in such a way needed. I need somebody of the old families to do so, somebody untainted and whole in their willpower and knowledge. Somebody free from the corruption that has just entered the bloodline."

"…Surely, you jest," Tarn quietly said, moving to stand next to the bed. "You surely cannot be implying…me?"

"Your family, before its' unfortunate demise, was the most loyal out of all to the Queens. Your people care not about self-advancement, save when you benefit from it when moving closer to your ultimate goal. I see no better choice."

"But…but I cannot! I am a mere librarian, somebody who can only rise up to the rank of Quartermaster perhaps with dedication over the years. I have no background, no connections, no powerful title behind my name!"

"Then I will give you power." The bed creaked as the Queen painfully shifted positions to be sitting on the edge, her eyes a steely glare as Tarn knelt once more. "Your sword."

Without even pausing or thinking, the boy unclipped the sheath from his belt and took out the long thing blade, resting it on his palms as he continued to stare at the ground. The Queen silently took it by the handle and gave it an experimental swing, nodding in admiration. "It is a good blade. It has seen generations of warfare. It will do."

"I, Queen of Terrazine, hereby name Tarn as Royal Knight of Terrazine. I empower him to protect and raise Princess Clara in whatever way he sees fit. I grant him powers that are second only to the royal family." She took the sword and pressed it against his neck on both sides respectively, a small smile on her face as she presented the blade back to the young boy. "Now, rise Sir Tarn, and take this blade to guide you to the future."

"Yes my Queen!" The red head immediately stood up and took the weapon, whirling it before sheathing the newly anointed royal blade. "I swear upon this that I shall see your daughter to a brighter future!"

"Good." Without any warning, the Queen's eyes glazed over and she fell backwards in her bed. "Now…I shall take a long nap."

And so spoke the final words of the last Queen of the Golden Age of Terrazine. Following her death, the kingdom was plunged into a time of warfare and infighting as false King hoarded his power. It barely was coherent upon contact with the Terran Empire.

But that's getting ahead of ourselves. Our story lies with Tarn, and his first task was to retrieve the axe from the tomb. After raising Clara of course, and he had a few years to go on that.


	4. Duty After Death-3

The second time down to the tomb, Tarn was a changed man.

His long red hair was now tied up into a ponytail that still fell to his mid back level. His sword was bound in new red bindings, a refreshing change after years of minimal maintenance. His butler's cloak and trousers were clean and elegant, with nary a scratch or dirt mark.

Also, he was accompanied by a young white haired girl.

"Tarn, where are we going?" Four year old Clara whined, tugging at the teen's sleeve. "I really want to see Xana's concert! And I've got violin lessons soon!"

"Don't worry, this won't take long Princess," Tarn calmly reassured and the young girl huffed. "I just need to grab something, then we can go see what your sister's been up to!"

"Okay! But you have to promise me that!"

"Of course I promise. Ah, here we are," The swordsman calmly remarked, taking care to make sure that both he and Clara wouldn't slip on the icy surface that now coated the main levels of the tomb. They had brought winter boots for this, but even then, one bad step could result in pain. "Please be careful. It's very slippery, so no running alright?"

The young girl nodded and Tarn smiled. Then his expression morphed into something resembling confusion as he stared at the frozen door. Specifically, the fact that somebody looked to have forced the bottom corner open with a broken gauss rifle. "Stay here. I'll be just a moment."

"Aw, can't I come in as well? I don't wanna get bored!"

"Don't worry, it'll just be a minute. And if you hear somebody coming, make sure that it's me okay?"

"Fine."

With that, Tarn let go of the young girl's hand and ducked under the door, making sure that nobody was waiting behind to ambush him. It appeared safe, and as the red head knight entered the main hall of the tomb, everything seemed to be in place. Then something glinted at him and he grinned wolfishly.

"Hello there. I've missed you!" Tarn muttered as he bent down and grabbed the axe, feeling its weight as he took a few swings with the thing. It felt so light! But he knew, the moment his hand left that handle, the axe would suddenly weigh as much as a brick and would be hurtling at dangerous speeds.

The knight proceeded to strap the axe to his back, where it thankfully still weighed almost nothing. He turned to examine himself in the iced walls, using the thick layer of frozen water to act as a reflection. Tarn chuckled at how differently he looked now compared to a few years ago.

A sudden glint in the reflection alerted Tarn the moment before the large and thick sword swung. With an elegant and timed roll backwards, he nimbly dodged the awkward blow and was back on his feet behind his surprise attacker. With a swish flick, the thin and long blade slide and lashed out of its sheath, aimed precisely for the side of his enemy. However, the sword bounced off something metallic and sparks fly as the two fighters back off, eyeing each other and readying their weaponry.

He was barely younger than Tarn, but was definitely a good half a head shorter. Messy blue hair covered his determination filled blue eyes as he held up his choice of probably stolen weaponry: a large and thick sword with no cross guard, and a large black metal diamond shield. Tarn could already spot that his arms were trembling while holding this heavy load out and realized that this wasn't something he was normally fighting with. The knight had the advantage!

The axe was shrugged off from his back and into his free hand as Tarn hefted it while swishing his sword round. Then, without any warning or indication, he threw the axe one handed, feeling the weapon grow heavy automatically as it began to leave his palm and fly towards the thief.

His opponent yelped in surprise and raised the black diamond shaped shield in a rough attempt to soften the blow. There was no way he could actually block the full impact, the gravity axe (as Tarn would later transcribe) was a weapon capable of shattering through metal and bone with the same ease. Tarn knew this and was sure of a quick victory.

Then the shield activated. Green power lines appeared on the face of the defensive tool, projecting some kind of force field that pushed the axe back _and sent it right back to Tarn._ The teen swiftly sidestepped upon realizing his newest weapon's malfunction and the axe barely missed his cheek. "What the-?"

His mutterings distracted Tarn and he gasped as the large blade swung and made contact with his side. An ominous cracking noise was heard as the knight rolled to dodge the second blow, one that would've brained him. Tarn winced as he moved, feeling his sides throbbing in pain. Broken rib.

However, it was very clear that he could outduel this thief in swordsmanship just from blade choice alone. While that thick sword would definitely break bones and cause massive blunt force trauma, it was unwieldy and could almost be considered a club remade into a thinner shape. Tarn's blade, of course, was the superior choice.

And it became very apparent as the two fought. Ignoring the pain, Tarn dashed in between just as his opponent's shield was positioned the wrong way, getting between the sword and shield and slashing downwards. From the angle, the thief had no chance of raising his shield in time and was forced to awkwardly use his own sword to catch the thinner blade.

Then with a flick impossible to follow with the thicker weapon, the red head teen ran his blade along the edge and got in between the back of the larger sword and the actual thief. Now all he had to do was swing sideways and his foe's head would go flying-

Something slammed into his already injured side and sent Tarn staggering as his broken rib protested. This was more than enough to give his opponent the chance he needed and a shield was slammed into Tarn's chest, sending him flying backwards. The knight landed with a cry as he felt his spine protest at crashing against the frozen floor, but at the same time, his eyes lit up at the sight of his gravity axe nearby and Tarn immediately snatched it backup before standing back up.

There was a newcomer to the fight, a girl that looked to be the same age as the boy. She too had messy and moss green hair, but with green eyes that betrayed a level of intelligence that really could not belong to a thief. But she was and must be one, as she was carrying an odd looking staff that the girl looked to have no idea using as she leveled it at Tarn. "You…You…" She stuttered. "Leave us alone!"

"I'm afraid that I can't. You are trespassing on royal territory." And with that, he threw his axe again, this time at the girl. Not surprisingly, the boy stepped in front of the axe and raised his shield, having learned about his weapon's ability now. The weapon bounced off and went back to Tarn at full speed, who just tilted his head to allow the axe to crash into the wall behind him. The unique weapon bounced on the floor and the knight picked it back up. "I see that you are indeed resisting; that'll make it very much easier to not feel guilt at striking you two down."

"Leave her alone!" The shield man snarled before gesturing to his companion with his head. "Go! I'll delay him!"

"I…I'll fight!" The girl cried out before flipping her staff around and leveling the bottom end at Tarn. It oddly looked like a- the knight's eyes widened and he quickly dashed, body close to the ground as he heard the gauss shot go off. The green blast of energy sailed over him, and Tarn took the opportunity to get around the boy and slash at the girl. She was the bigger threat!

She shrieked and fell back, cringing as Tarn swung. Suddenly, out of nowhere, something caught the knight's blade and stopped its path of destruction. But there was nothing there! The mystery was solved upon seeing the girl suddenly raise her staff and touched the thin blade with the top of her staff, a crescent moon top. Time acceleration, the act of doing something after it had been done. It would seem that either this girl was special, or this was the staff's doing.

However, she forgot that Tarn had his gravity axe, and he swung it so as to catch the staff by the handle and yanked downwards. At the same time, the red head teen broke his sword out of the staff's grasp and placed it against his back, catching the thick blade without looking just as it was about to strike his spine horizontally. With a spin, he pulled on the axe and twirled, pushing his opponent's blade as his other foe's weapon clattered to the floor.

Without any pause to give the shieldman time to recover, Tarn pressed a counterattack and baraged the shield with both his weapons, making the boy holding it give ground until his back hit the wall. From there, it was almost child's play for Tarn to do a low sweep, knocking his foe downwards and kicking the sword away. The shield was raised in a self-defense attempt, but it was useless as the red head hooked his axe around the rim and pulled it away, pressing a knee to the raggedly dressed chest area. At the same time, his sword swung upwards before halting at the girl's neck.

The Royal Knight was the victor. "Now, what will I do with you two?" He mused darkly, pressing the sword's edge against the girl's throat. "You're obviously tomb robbers or thieves that happen to have stumbled on this goldmine of a stash. Either way, I do believe that capital punishment is called for."

"Ack! Let her go, I'll take full responsibility!" The boy shouted, struggling furiously only to freeze as Tarn's gravity axe was leaned against his throat. "I...I'm not afraid of you! Just let her go and I'll come quietly!"

"Why would I do that though? I have you both captured and can easily see you to the gallows. Very little can save you from your crime now."

"And one of those little things just appeared," Alexis' young but trained voice echoed and the three turned to see the Princess of Terrazine enter the main hall. "Tarn, I command you to let them go."

A moment hesitation, then the knight did as he was told and stood up, taking the blade off the girl's throat and sheathing it. "As you say my lady. But I do warn you, they are criminals guilty of the highest count-"

"I understand that," The toddler interrupted, her eyes giving Tarn shivers down his spine. The young Clara acted innocent, but truthfully, by now...Tarn now bore multiple scars from all the assassination attempts from her own father. She was definately anything but inexeperienced in the horrors of the world. "But I do believe that a fair trial and apprenhension is in order before executing the sentence. Correct?"

"It is as you say. You two." The two robbers were now slowly getting back together, picking up their fallen weapons. "Give us a good reason why you're here."

"As if we need to answer to you," The boy spat, moving to brandish his thick sword before freezing as his companion placed a small hand on his shoulder. The two looked at each other before the shieldman sighed and lowered his weapons, resting them against the floor as the girl cleared her throat awkwardly.

"We...um...we didn't mean to...um...break into the tomb," She stuttered, clutching her staff closer to her body. "I...I would like to apologize for...for attacking you so. And he does to...right?"

"Whatever you say," He grumbled, obviously not liking the peaceful outcome but not making any agressive moves. "Just know that I'll support you."

"We...we needed food, so we came here...here in hopes of making off with some," The girl mumbled, kicking her feet back and forth in a shy manner. "I accidentally cut myself falling above, and some...doorway appeared. We went down and found these and..."

"I see. In that case, you are indeed thieves, looking to get some food," Clara reasoned and the girl nervously nodded. The young princess stepped closer and closer to the staff-wielder, getting straight up in her face as Tarn and the other thief looked on curiously. "Well then! Here's my judgement!

"Tarn, go prepare a feast! These are my guests, and I would like to pardon them of breaking and entering!"

"It will be what you say." The swordsman bowed, his loyalty taking over personal feelings about the affair. "Should I invite your siblings as well?"

"Sure! So, you want food? Let's go grab some!" The white haired girl eagelry shouted, startling the two as they looked incredoulously at the submissive swordsman and the overexcited princess. "Oh, that's right! What are your names?"

"Um...I'm...I'm...Alicia! And this is Horace!"

O O O

"My, my, it seems that you are already getting into the habit of picking up strays!" Zeb teasefully remarked as he watched the the blue and green haired thieves dig hungrily into their food. The white haired prince placed his head on his hands as he examined their faces, their bodies, their hands, looking for any clues as to who exactly they were. "I would formally advise against doing this often though; it'll be a bad habit to have."

"But they were hungry Zeb!" Clara protested, gripping the armrest of her chair in a very agressive manner...had it not been for the sight of Tarn cutting her food. "I mean, they were starving! How can we let our people starve when we have all this food?"

"Because our oh so gracious King has decreed a massive tax on the farmlands," A white haired teenage Xana sardonically explained, kicking up her legs and placing her hunting boots on the table with little regard as to proper form. They were all friends here; what was the point?

Tarn took a quick glance upwards from his task at the other princess. Ever since that one fateful night, the girl's hair had turned from that ebony black to this pale white pallette that matched her siblings. A side effect of the cure, Zeb had explained. And it would appear that the meek and weak princess that was young Xana was gone. Now, in its place was a hardened and critical hunter, loyal to both her siblings.

"I don't agree with what Father is doing either," Zeb threw in, shaking his head. "He isn't understanding that our kingdom's crops aren't doing particularly well this year, and is just robbing farmers of what little they have. It's...just not right! And this is a pattern that has followed ever since Mother died!"

"It creates them, as children are always the first to suffer." Xana jerked her head to the two eaters of the feast. "Miscreants. Outcasts. Orphans. Suffering because our Father can't get through his thick crown that you need the people to survive to actually have a goddamn kingdom!"

"Watch your tounge princess!" Now a black haired boy had stood up from his seat next to Zeb, his face purple with anger as he spat at the white haired girl (who just flipped him off in response.) "Our king is a wise and true ruler! If he believes that the status quo is to be maintained, then we should simply-"

"Tyler, enough!" Zeb snapped and the servant stopped, bowing immediately to the prince. "Leave us."

"As you wish sir!" The boy eagerly responded, leaving with so much gusto that he knocked his chair over without even realizing. Tarn sighed as he finished cutting up Clara's food into bite-size pieces for the toddler and began to take some of the food himself. Tyler was the king's gift to Zeb, a servant completely obedient in everything...but ultimately loyal to the king's ideals. A dangerous combination that Tarn knew could bite them one day.

"Well then, you should at least offer our guests a few nights stay," Zeb proposed and his younger sister nodded, turning to her two new friends with a pleading look in her eyes. "Oh dear, they can't refuse now!" He joked.

"Guys, please?"

Again, the two looked at each other. Tarn's eyes flicked to the side as he made note of how intensive they stared into each other's eyes. What bond did these two share...? It was like that of a sibling, but, it wasn't that in a way...

Finally, they broke eye contact and Horace spoke."Well, I think that it would be quite rude to refuse. If you don't mind...?"

"Of course not! Tarn?"

"As you wish," The swordsman replied, not a hint of complaint in his voice as he left his untouched platter. "If you don't mind, may I take those weapons and store them in the armory? I assure you, no harm will come to them, and it is unlikely you have a direct need."

O O O

"Let's see...where was that weapon's guide...?" Tarn muttered as he shifted through his collection of books in his room, guided only by torchlight as he went through the many volumes he had borrowed from the library. It had taken a few days, but now, he himself was certain about what exactly those weapons the two thieves had picked up. All he needed now was confirmation- "Aha!"

With a cloud of dust billowing out, the red head flipped the said book open and muttered to himself, eyes darting as page after page was turned in search. Eventually, he grinned as he found an exact illustration of the staff that Alicia was wielding, and slowly translated the runes.

 _Shotstaff of Time_

 _A weapon made to distort the timeline around the user in battle, enabling them to strike seconds before reality catches up. A foe will often lose their head or miss their swing without even realizing it till a few seconds later when reality resumes. Additionally has a built in gauss rifle._

"Pretty goddamn powerful," The knight remembered, the surprise shot nearly taking off his face. "Now, let's see...sword and shield, sword and shield...ah!"

 _Distortion Shield_

 _The main weapon of a bodyguard. Made to defelct and reflect all projectiles, be they fired or thrown, so as to better protect from assassins. Warning: incredibly heavy._

 _Hyperphose Sword_

 _The secondary weapon of a bodyguard. Made to stun and break bones of an enemy. Hardly lethal, but if done correctly, capable of capturing assassins alive for interrogation. Warning: incredibly heavy._

"Horace is hiding a lot more than he looks. He has to be really strong if he is able to wield such heavy weapons with ease. I wonder, with a bit of training, how far can he and Alicia go?" Tarn pondered, placing the book back and sitting back in his chair as he mused. "Perhaps I should offer them a place in the army? Perhaps the Royal Guards? Those two...it's only been a few days, but I can already see themselves dedicating their lives to Clara.

"Of course though, it poses a danger if they decide to reject my offer of servitude. They have powerful weaponry that I must confiscate, by force if need be. Tricky, tricky, this affair is." With a sigh, the red headed teen took his lantern and opened his door, moving to hang it next to his room to give people at least a little light in the night. As he did so, a rather familiar swish was heard as his ears pricked upwards in recognition.

Immediately, Tarn's free hand dropped to his sword hilt and, using that same hand, took out the blade with a flick of the wrist. "I can hear you!" He shouted, tossing the lantern high up in the hallway. It flew through the air gracelessly, but that was all Tarn needed to spot his black clothed assassin lunging towards him!

With a quick sidestep and swing, the long and thin blade sparked against the assassin's blade, providing another brief flash of light as the Royal Knight memorized his opponent's position before swinging again, this time in utter darkness. There was a cry of pain which was promptly choked off with a gargle as Tarn calmly withdrew and sheathed his weapon, allowing his mortally wounded enemy to fall to the ground.

After checking the corpse to ensure that there wasn't any dangerous item left on the body, Tarn rushed over to the Royal Family's bedroom wing, knowing that an attack on him was most likely part of a coordinated effort to kill the children of the King. As to who sent them...they were either the King's men, the King himself, the revolutionaries, enemy kingdoms...the list was endless as Tarn bitterly recalled how many he had already killed in front of a shocked princess. Such acts had eventually desensetize her, but at what cost? Her innocence?

Shaking off these thoughts, Tarn found the door to Clara's room and immediately opened it, with little regard given to what could be inside as he drew his blade. A bright flare of light reflected from the corridor's torch onto his blade, casting a brief flash over the sleeping toddler's face and her eyes snapped open. "Tarn," She merely stated, not even bothered by the late night intrusion as her own line of reasoning kicked in. "Guard the door. Allow me to get dressed."

"Of course." The teen respectfully turned away, leaving the door open but not looking inside as he repeatedly scanned either side of the marble corridor, ears alert as to any possible footsteps. There was one such case incoming from his right side, and the knight prepared his blade, only to lower it as a familiar figure emerged from the shadows. "Zeb. Are you aware?"

"It was such a nice night as well. I was teaching Xana how to pretend to drink when they appeared." The prince sighed, shaking his head at the wasted teaching lesson. "Xana is moving to guard the front of the palace from any more attacks. I'm off to rally the guard."

"Good luck to you then. See you at dawn"

"Be careful my friend. I think that more than usual have inflitrated today. Take care of Clara." With that, the white haired swordsman disappeared back into the shadows on the opposite side. Tarn waited a few more minutes before asking his question.

"My lady, are you decent?"

"I am now. You may turn around." The princess was now in her custom-made battle outfit, a black dress with white scarves dangling from her neck, as well as black sleeves that were disjointed at the shoulder. She held a wooden training staff in her hands. "What's the plan?"

"Simple: stay here, and stay out of danger." Tarn glanced backwards. "I'll stay outside. Close and lock it after me, do NOT, under any circumstance, open it unless you hear our codeword. You do remember what it is right?"

"Of course."

"Good. Now, just relax my lady; everything will be over before you know it." With that, the red head man stepped outside and the wooden door to the princess' room was closed, with a metal clack to indicate the lock. "Now, what to do to pass the time...?" He mused.

That wasn't necessary though, for as predicted, more assassins did show up. They immediately snuffed out the flames of the corridor's lone torch, darkening the environment and leaving Tarn theorectically blind. But the Royal Knight grinned, taking out his axe from his back and focusing. Power surged into the weapon, and the curved blade lit up with a green glow, illuminating the horrified assassins. "Ah, there we go. Let me teach you a lesson about trying to kill my mistress now, shall we?"

O O O

"The night survived, the assassins dealt with, and everybody made it through," Tarn listed with a rather satisfied tone. "A perfect defense my lady."

"Are you sure everybody made it through? What about Horace and Alicia, where are they?" Clara worriedly asked. "I mean, they're not anywhere when we searched their rooms this morning! I'm really worried about them!"

"Well, the weapons that the two used are also missing from the armory," The knight mused. "It is entirely possible that-"

"Hey, get ya hands off me!" A man in assassin's clothing spat at the guards dragging him along, trying to wrestle his way free but to no avail. "I swear to ye gods that if you don't let me go-!"

"Tarn. Clara. I've been looking for you two." Zeb appeared in front of the two and nodded to each of them. There were a few blood smears on his black cloak, but nothing that indicated a critical wound of sorts. "Have you see our new prisoner?"

"Just did. How did we capture him though? I thought that all assassins would prefer death over giving away information inadverdently," Tarn remarked and the white haired prince nodded in confirmation. "So who captured him, and how?"

"Your friends. Where are they?" Zeb turned and asked Clara, who shrugged in response.

"Nowhere, it would seem. There's not even a trace that they were even here!"

"Perfect. The secret of their existence is indeed hidden from father then, Tyler doesn't consider them worthy tidbits." He reached into his robes and pulled out a small wrinkled white enveloped, addressed to Clara. "To explain...I did run into them last night."

"What?"

"They were very thankful of your generosity, but they felt that they needed to do something. That young man, Horace, then pointed me to a gift for the family of Terrazine; the head of the assassins, knocked unconcious by his blade," Zeb elaborated. "They requested that, if you truly still did wanted to be friends with them...you should read the letter."

"...thank you brother." Clara slowly reached up and took the said parchment, unfolding it and squinting as she tried to make out the words. Tarn blinked then chuckled upon realizing that the young girl was still struggling to become fully literate and plucked the paper from her hands, reading out loud.

 _To: Princess Clara of Terrazine (and her Royal Knight Tarn I guess)_

 _Thank you for...everything. You're the first friend that we've made in a while, and we're more than happy to stand by you as you grow up, in hopes that you would accept us into your retinue as loyal warriors. when time comes However...we feel that we do not qualify for such a role yet. Tarn has shown to us how much we have to learn, and we will seek out this experience._

 _There are rumors of wars in the lands to the east, that go on forever without end. We shall travel there, and there, seek out to make both experience and gold as mercenaries. Don't worry, we'll keep safe! Afterwards, we shall return to Terrazine, and await your judgement._

 _Alicia and Horace_

"Hm. They didn't even bother to leave a deposit fee on the weapons," Tarn sarcastically remarked, looking up from the letter. "Well...I guess this does save me the trouble of organizing a 'prison break.'"

"Aye, it does," The princess whispered, her eyes moisting over upon realizing that she was indeed loved by others. "I...I hope that we will see them again one day!"

"If that is your wish, my lady, then I am sure that it will come true."

O O O

"Horace...I'm...I'm..."

"Don't worry Alicia," The blue haired boy reassured, hugging the green haired girl. "I'll make sure we find good company...there has to be at least a few good people..."

"But...I...I miss Clara already."

"So do I. So do I."

"Hey, you kids looking for some business?" A spiky haired teen peered down at the two teens in the boat's corner, the boat set to sail for the mystical island of Hanar. "You're a bit young, but those weapons look fancy enough. That is, if you want in."

"Want in on what?"

"Forming a mercenary band of course! Name's Jack: what's yours?"

O O O

"So this is where Zeb got his sparkly sword from," Xana commented, eyes wondering all around the tomb while her hand remained firm on her hunter's knife. "Was the ice here before or after the incident?"

"Zeb froze the entire room over to prevent anymore robots from awakening and killing us," Tarn grimly explained, pointing to the frozen control panel. "That thing specifically is not to be messed with. I read up more on how it worked, and it's pretty nasty what it summons."

"Can you make these robots fight for us in theory?" The elder princess casually asked, but the red head man could easily see how she wanted these available for an emergency army. "I mean, from what Zeb and you told us, this could potentially turn a war around!"

"Yes, but the risk is pretty big. For one, to say that these robots are simple automations is a massive mistake."

"Huh?"

"Don't you see sis? It's related back to the old Terrazine Empire, the one that supposedly stretched across stars," A young teenage Clara explained, her eyes brimming with fascination and knowledge. Tarn, now an adult in his own right, could only smile at how excited she was getting about seeing this ancient site first hand. It was no real surprise though, after all those years ago she expressed interest in Tarn's work with old texts and wanted to learn about this marvelous- and mighty- kingdom that once was Terrazine. "Back then, they practiced some form of black magic."

"Black magic? I'm not very supersitious, but I don't like the sound of that..." The white haired woman grimaced. "I may have just changed my mind-"

"It was some kind of necromacy from what we can glean," The other white haired princess plowed on, not even minding at her sister's new hesistation to use this army. "Basically, they figured out how to trap the soul after it leaves the body, and insert it into an inert body for future usage. It gives the robots some form of actual rational and human-like thinking, making them even better warriors!"

"I should add in the fact that, according to the translations, majority of these damned human souls come directly from the Terrazine population itself, specifically those opposed to this project," Tarn added, not wanting to leave out any detail in Clara's explanation. "That way, they became very efficient with all their resources."

"If you will not serve us in this life, then you will do so in the next," Xana grimly muttered, understanding the reasoning. "Okay, I don't like that idea anymore."

"A wise choice, and Zeb thought so as well. Now, let's get to why we're actually here-"

"A weapon!" Clara chimed up, holding up her worn and now small quarterstaff. "I need an actual weapon, and I want it from the old Terrazine! Like Tarn and Horace and Alicia!"

The elder sister blinked, then slowly nodded before turning to Tarn. "Ah, and you wanted me down here because...?"

"I thought that you could help her choose something...logical," The Royal Knight admitted and Xana sighed.

"Alright, where's the pile of sharp pointy sticks?"

"Over here." Tarn moved to the makeshift weapon shrine and began shifting through the pile of sharp metal. Xana made her way next to him and began looking through as well, leaving Clara out of the picture.

However, that was not to say that the young lady did nothing. She wandered around the room, absorbing everything that Clara deemed to be fascinating. There was nothing that could escape her inqusitive eye in this tomb. And that included the main coffin in the opposite end of the weapon shrine.

Without letting Tarn or Xana notice, she fluttered over to the sacrphogus and peered around the open casket. It was hard to look through the thick layer of ice that coated everything, but Clara was able to make out the fallen body of what looked to be a lord of the robots or something judging from his outfit. A few memories popped up, and she recalled her brother once describing a terrifying and powerful officer among the awakened. This must be him.

But what really got her attention was the staff that laid besides the fallen robot. It looked to be somethin similar to that of a priest's staff or close to it, with a standard pole base but branching out in the top to become a bladed weapon with a green jewel in the center. It was mirrored on the other side but on a smaller scale and without the jewel.

And it was calling to Clara. As she moved her hand to lay over the icy floor, whispers began to gather in her mind, hints of the future, tales of the past, orders of sacrifice, revolutions of power, the story of the old Terrazine. Clara breathed it all in, accepting them unconditionally as she embraced her heritage. They all felt welcomed, as if taking a breath of fresh air after an eternity underwater, a relief that she didn't even know existed. This...this power!

Then the ice cracked. Over in the opposite end of the tomb, both weapon searchers flinched at the deafening sound. Tarn was the first to turn around, eyes wide as he swiftly drew out his sword. "Get back Clara!" He shouted, lunging at her, but it was too late as the frozen water exploded, spraying shards everywhere. It was very lucky that nobody was harmed, and that it was only a small portion of the floor.

Hovering in the air in front of Clara was the Staff of Oracles, a weapon meant for those who were right in their cause. It hummed with energy as the teenage girl slowly grasped the handle with both hands, feeling its weight and power contained within with a few swings. Then, with a sudden swing, Princess Clara raised the staff and lightning arced out from the crystal, striking the ground around her in a very flashy fashion. "I'll take this!" She cheerfully announced.


	5. Duty After Death-4

Zeb could only smile at the sight of his youngest sister dispatching with ease some of the best trained guards of the entire kingdom. "You've trained her well," The white haired man commented, taking a sip of his drink as he leaned back in his chair. "I'm surprised you know so much about staffmanship in addition to your unique style."

"A warrior should be able to adapt to any weapon at hand in case his preferred is not available," The red head knight recited with ease, nursing his cup as well as he watched. "So, say if that legendary sword of yours gets stolen by a thief who uses it against you, you won't immediately die from lack of actual wide combat knowledge."

"Hah! Well said!" Zeb laughed, looking longingly at the sword scabbard at his side. "I wish that we could have a spar like days old..."

"Why not then?" Tarn asked, confused as to his friend's hesitation. It wasn't like Zeb to hold himself back from anything that he wanted to do. "Did the King directly order not to participate in duels anymore?"

"Not exactly directly, but..." With a jerk of his head, the white haired prince made a subtle gesture and the knight's gaze followed the direction before darkening with anger. It was clear what was stopping Zeb from dueling.

"Of course the idiot would be that high of himself," Hissed Tarn as he found Tyler's insistent glare on Zeb from one of the palace windows. "Let me guess: if you wanted to even have a friendly spar with me, that servant of yours would jump in and take your place?"

"I'm afraid so. Even when I insist that it's just a friendly fight or spar, Tyler gets it in him that this is something that I cannot lose and is willing to fight for me in my place. I've already seen it in action after trying to spar a few guards; I'm unofficially prohibited from friendly fighting from now on, so I would theoretically be forced to past time learning how to be king" Zeb sighed and rubbed his temples. "Tyler's a good kid, but...my father seriously weighs too much on him. I would rather just watch my sisters grow up than suffer through another one of his egotistical lessons."

"I understand your pain." The two then just stood there in quiet and enjoyable silence, the sound of Clara's battle cries echoing through as the small princess elegantly made sparring into a dance of sorts. She probably did so without realization as well, striking here and there with blunt ends of her staff and knocking her numerous opponents over with swift hits. Finally, Tarn muttered, more to himself than anything, "She's really beautiful in combat."

Then, out of nowhere, the sound of pained guard cries intensified twicefold as majority of Clara's remaining opponents were suddenly swept away. The screams of pain and agony was enough to snap Tarn and Zeb out of there content selves and they both stood up, knocking chairs backwards as they drew _Battle's End_ and _Frozen Throne_ respectively. "Who's there!" Tarn barked. The dust cleared and the knight paused, then sighed, then sheathed his blade. "Of course it's you two."

Standing in front of Clara were two individuals, both wearing near-identical outfits to the shocked princess but with a hint of their hair colors in their sleeves. One was a blue haired man, hefting a thick sword and a glowing black and green diamond shield. The other was a green haired woman holding a staff like a rifle, ready to fire or strike in melee. It had been years since anybody from this kingdom had seen them, but the weapons gave away their identity.

"Sorry, but we can't just let you attack our boss," The two said in unison, twirling their weapons as they readied for battle with the rest of the frightened and confused guards. Again, Tarn sighed at how blunt they were, as if... _were they trying to steal his job from him?!_

But then, Clara's eyes lit up and she stuck her staff in the ground so as to eagerly hug both of them around the waist. "Horace! Alicia! You're back!" She screamed excitedly, elicting gasps of surprise from the two former thieves. "I've missed you!"

"Ah we're...we're glad to be back!" Alicia slightly stuttered, a grin lighting up on her face as she copied the Terrazine princess' gesture and stuck her staff in the dirt to hug. "I...I hope all our letters reached you!"

"They did! I kept all of them. You have to tell me all your stories!"

"Well, I'm sure that you two can exchange stories a little later." Unlike his partner, Horace managed to wriggle himself out of Clara's hug and retained hold on his weapons, glancing around to make sure the sparring foes wouldn't make a surprise attack on the reunited friends. "For now though...I hope that our little interruption will be forgiven, but we do have that bit of a dramatic flair."

"Indeed you do." And with that, Tarn whirled and threw his gravity axe at Horace in a blur of limbs. With ease, the blue haired boy slammed his shield into the ground and braced as the projectile made contact. A distinctive _ping_ was heard as the axe bounced uselessly off the protective weapon and crashed against the ground, the momentum absorbed instead of reflected. "And I'll have to...educate you properly. Let's spar."

"Why the hell not?" The shieldman grinned, hefting his sword as Tarn drew his own blade. "Alicia, milady Clara, do as you please. For now, let spirited fools fight!"

"Have at you!"

"Oh, screw it all." With a point of his sword, Zeb froze the door to the training yard shut with his power before leaping into the fray with a cry on his lips. "I'll show you true meaning of fear!"

O O O

"Boys will be boys," Xana grumbled as she finished wrapping the gauze around her older brother's head. He'd taken quite a nasty shield bash to the face but refused to tend to it till now, meaning that Zeb had been fighting with a massive headache as well. "Leave that on for the rest of the day, then I'll replace the bandages tomorrow to make sure there isn't a chance for infection. Gods help me if you get any stupider than having a three-way free-for-all sparring match with real weapons."

"I...I actually have to agree," Alicia shyly added as the green haired girl tightened the final splinter in her partner's ankle, making sure that he would be comfortable walking around with that for a while. The downsides of using a massive shield to block attacks: you could easily sprain your ankle really badly from the blunt force trauma. "That...that should work for now."

"That was awesome!" Clara, on the polar opposite end of danger, eagerly cheered as she wiped the last drop of blood off Tarn's arm using an alcohol soaked pad and placed an adhesive version of the material on instead. Despite Zeb trying to hold back his strikes, his blade still could cut through skin with no effort. "It's like reading a fantasy novel or warrior's tale! You were all like 'I'm gonna cut you!' And he was like 'I don't think so!' So cool!"

Tarn grinned, then sighed as he flexed his arm, experimenting his possible movements and noting which ones caused a brief flash of pain. The wound would heal in a few days, but it was still important to know what could distract one in a fight. That was all it took to become absent-minded and slip up in a duel to the death.

After testing out his arm movements, Tarn turned to Horace as the girls began to clean up the makeshift medical session. "You have definitely improved. I had trouble actually landing hits on you, and those that did were smoothly blocked. How did you learn such a technique?"

The blue haired teen shrugged. "Well, we went to Hanar, and there, getting hit nearly means death in an instant. Even with my shield...the number of times that I got cut because I relied too much on it protecting me. So I tried to instead just dodge the attacks in the first place, and use my shield more as an insurance policy than my primary source of taking the blows."

"He...he did amazingly when he fought!" Alicia added. "He...he protected me from everything that way. And also our colleagues!"

"Well, it sounds like you two made a name for yourself over there," The red head man commented, nodding appreciatively before frowning. "How come you came back then? And without letting us know?"

"It was a very sudden and abrupt change," Horace answered. "To put it simply, we went out of work. The wars stopped."

"What?" Here, Tarn's head snapped upwards. His family hailed from lands close to Hanar, and it was well known that the rivalries of the warlords of Hanar were legendary in their legacy. What in the world could have made them stopped?

"Some new kingdom conquered them," The shieldman continued, understanding the Royal Knight's confusion. "I think you might have heard of them, the Terran Empire?"

"The Terran Empire conquered Hanar?" Zeb muttered and the entire group turned to look at him expectantly. "Ah, yes, well, there have been talks of some new nation coming to power to the lands northwest of us. Apparently, they posses technology that has never been seen before in these lands ever since the birth of our current kingdom. I originally dismissed them as mere rumors, but now, it would appear that they truly a real power."

"If they do exist, and they have indeed conquered Hanar, then the whole world will be in uproar," Xana reasoned, her own diplomatic training kicking in. "It can then be assumed that the Terran Empire shall respond in kind, possibly with a public declaration with various diplomats or something along those words."

"Then I suppose that we do have to play dress up then dear sisters," The white haired prince sighed and his sisters nodded. "I must say, what wondrous technologies do they have...?"

"Wait, we want to accompany the princess!" Tarn, Horace, and Alicia all exclaimed in unison. "We're hers to command!"

"Actually, I think you three need a well deserved break; stay here and keep an eye on Father in fact; make sure he doesn't get in trouble or anything of the sort. Well, for now though, I say we just continue living our daily lives!" Clara exclaimed and turned to the other girls in the room, Alicia and Xana. After a brief whispering session between them, the three nodded and got up, leaving the confused and wounded men staring as they left the room. Then the ominous cackling sound of ice forming was heard and Tarn's face paled as he jumped up and pull on the door. It didn't even budge. "Sorry Tarn!"

"But we can't let you have all the fun!" Xana, user of ice, chimed. "We'll have our own fight now."

"We...we expect you to patch us up in the same way afterwards!" Alicia added and together, the three ladies made their way to the dueling field.

Tarn looked incredulously at Zeb, who merely shook his head and sighed. "You've taught Clara way too well. I fully expect a coup tonight that will ensure that deserts are served first at dinnertime."

O O O

"I don't like them." Tarn muttered, shaking his head disapprovingly as he passed another Terrazine royal guard, now outfitted in the Terran CMC power armor. "I don't."

"What's the matter Tarn?" Clara asked, skipping along happily next to her Royal Knight. "You disapprove of the Terran technologies? Why?"

"They are tearing down much of our culture, something shaped over thousands of years of struggle. and are replacing them with something...sterile, birthed only recently and with little base." The red head man sighed and readjusted his sword scabbard. "I guess, maybe I'm just old fashioned. I would still take the sword over the pistol any day."

"Well, don't we all?" Two voices chorused in unison and Horace and Alicia both stepped in line next to Clara, protecting her flanks while Tarn guarded the princess' back. A suitable bodyguard position, Tarn deemed as they were able to respond assassinations from all sides whilst still remaining in comfortable talking distance.

Following their reappearance, the two were inagurated into Clara's newly formed Royal Court, a tradition harkening from the old Terrazine, where nobles would surround themselves with whatever invdividuals they fancied. So far, only Tarn and the two former thieves were part of this Court, but to Clara, she was happy with those three as her direct subordinates. Additionally, as Clara was still a princess and lacked full authority to knight both Horace and Alicia, they had created a cheeky workaround; they would still pose as mercenaries, hired by the Terrazine princess to protect herself from any assassins. That also satisfied any payment needs that the two would have for living expenses.

However, for today, as the four approached a large metal door in the marble corridors, Clara turned and gestured. "Well, off you go! This is a personal meeting with Commander Anthony and my siblings; I'm sorry, but I can't have you all crowding us up. Just go take a walk, and I'll be done before you even know it!"

Tarn began to protest, then hesistated and sighed at realizing nothing would change the young mistress' mind when she was this determined about her new friend. "As you wish." He bowed and the two mercenaries followed suit. All three then turned around and began to stroll along the palace corridors. They simply enjoyed the comfortable silence between their colleagues, no real need to be on guard or stressed as of now. The kingdom of Terrazine was at peace.

And yet, Tarn was aware of the malevolent talks that several nobles have been doing, ears open for any threat. They were unhappy, like him, about the recent Terranization of their very traditional kingdom. However, unlike Tarn, they weren't willing to bear it for the sake of peace, and were willing to instead incite a civil war. At this point, this could prove disastrous as the people still had low public opinion of the king.

The King. Oh, what a marvelous fool! The Royal Knight would relish the day that Prince Zeb finally overtook him, the old man proving to be an even bigger ego as time progressed on. He accepted the Terranization as merely a way to strengthen his own military and might; Tarn would not be surprised if relations with the Terran Empire were suddenly broken after the King had deemed that he had stolen all their powerful technologies.

But this would lead to heartbreak however. Princess Clara, in her first experience of tasting alcohol (that didn't end very well), had stated in a drunken fit that it was very clear that her older sister liked this Commander Anthony beyond simply being friends. Prince Zeb had also hinted this to Tarn in one of their simple drinking sessions (that thankfully ended better).

An alliance based on marriage, Tarn mused. Wouldn't be the worst idea ever, especially when both parties had genuine interest in each other. However, this was sounding more and more like a set up for a very tragic love story, and the red head man knew that Clara too would be heartbroken if anything happened to her sister. Hmm...this was a particularly interesting diplomatic incident! Should he perhaps muse about this in his book...?

"Tarn," Alicia's voice, free of stutters and filled now with cold confidence, whispered and the man with glasses snapped back to attention as his senses went into overdrive. The green haired teenager wouldn't speak so freely like that unless...

"Sniper, upper right," Horace smoothly added, casually slinging his shield from his back over to that side. He made no movements to grab his sword from his back as well though, so as to let the assassins know they've been had. "And there's something in those bushes-"

"Two in bushes, acting as decoys for a final shooter in hedge to far right," Tarn finished, rotating his neck and nudging the blue haired teen. "I'm still your elder. Allow me to best you for once."

"As if I'd let you." With that, the sniper fired but the Distortion Shield was already in place as Horace activated his weapon. The green power lines came to life within the dead hunk of metal as the bullet froze short of hitting the weapon, reversed its momentum, and came shooting right back at the sniper. The assassin let out a cry of pain and surprise as his weapon was shattered by its own bullet and the shards of metal pierced his armor, but there were now more pressing concerns.

From the bushes rose two men in armor and rifles, taking aim at the group while Horace was focused on the sniper. Their trigger fingers clenched and the guns barked, only for the bullets to fly aimlessly in the air as a well placed staff smack knocked both weapons upwards, followed by two swift jabs to knock them out as Alicia coolly repeated her maneuvers half a second later. With a flick of her staff, the green haired girl turned to fire on the last assassin-

Only to watch the poor traitor becoming bisected as Tarn threw his axe directly at his abdomen. The ancient weapon sheared through the metal armor as if it were mere paper, and the organs protected within as if they were butter. The two sections crashed to the floor with a _squish_ while Tarn casually walked to and picked up his gravity axe from where it crashed: the wall on the opposite side of the courtyard. "Let's get moving. I'll bet my sword that the Princess is in trouble."

"Copy."

"We'll follow!"

Without any further discussion, the three black-clad figures turned and dashed back into the marble white palace. For Tarn, this was the first time he was going into a full-out battlezone, and what he heard and saw irked him. For the first time, he heard the screams and cries of the wounded, the blood and gore splattered everywhere, the brutality of the fight as Terrazine turned upon Terrazine. It didn't necessarily disturb or discourage him, but for the Royal Knight, this was a new experience that he was enduring. Was this what killing the King would bring? A bloody revolution, a slaughter? Was this massacre of men worth his revenge?

A rather hard nudge into his ribs snapped Tarn out of his reverie and he turned to see Horace casually replacing his thick sword back with his shield. "You looked out of it," He casually remarked. "Just stay focused."

Ah, that was right. The two mercenaries of Clara had seen the most brutal battles in Hanar, where mercy was hardly a concept. He'd had to step up his game, Tarn realized as he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. When the green eyes opened back up, they were cold and merciless, with only one thing in mind: Clara's safety. "Thank you."

"I'll charge you later." Whether that was a joke or not, Tarn did not know. Nor did he care, as the trio rounded the corner and found their boss. "Princess!"

"Huh?" Clara turned to look whilst striking her staff forward, sending out a bolt of lightning into the traitor about to cleave her. The man shouted and screamed, then was silenced as Zeb cleaved through his abdomen and kicked the body off the impromptu cover. "Ah, took you guys long enough!"

"What's the status?" Tarn asked as he moved in, blades flashing as he cut through the crowd of enemies standing between him and the defensive position the Royals had set up. Horace and Alicia followed, guarding his flanks as they helped beat through the crowd. "Where's Princess Xana?"

"I sent her with the Terrans," Zeb cut in, both in the conversation and in the fight as he loped off the head of somebody about to shoot at Tarn. "We'll need allies if we are to win this civil war! Can I count on you Tarn, to aid me in ending our strife?"

"Count on your sister, and her will is my will!" The Royal Knight roared, flicking his blade and getting into a combat stance with the tip of his sword pointed outwards and gravity axe at ready to be thrown. "My lady, instruct me!"

"Alright then! Everybody, charge! Break the horde, and beat them out of the palace!" Clara shouted, raising her staff so as to gain her allies' attention. "We will not rest until every traitor that dared to harm our friends fall!"

O O O

Ducking his tall form under the tent's rim, a blood splattered Tarn entered the field command and waited as he watched Clara give heated directions into a radio. "General Abe, as much as I welcome your help, the orders are to capture the rebels ALIVE! We need them to learn more information...goddammit!"

"Language," He muttered instinctively, immediately drawing the white haired girl's attention. Tarn flinched, half-expecting a yell of frustration or a bark of dismissal from the angered Princess in the annoyance. But instead, Clara just slumped in her chair, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair.

"Tarn, sorry. I just...ragh! I want men who WILL listen and follow, not men who COULD listen and follow!" She ranted, slamming her hand on the table during some sections. Without even needing an order, Tarn fumbled around and pulled out a canteen of water from under his jacket, and handed it to Clara wordlessly. She took it and drank greedily, coughing as she finished the container's remains. "Thanks. But as much as I trust Anthony, I can't say the rest about his men. Specifically this Abe fellow."

"He's quite...hot headed," The red head offered and the Princess nodded in agreement. "Maybe I should go take the order to him directly? That way, if he refuses-"

"No, no. You look bad enough already; go get patched up, I'll talk to Abe directly." Clara ordered, much to Tarn's confusion. "What? You're pretty hurt, I should've-"

"It's not my blood."

"Oh."

An awkward silence.

Then the two broke out into stiffled giggles and chuckles. "You know, I really do care for you," Clara commented as she grabbed her cloak, slipping it on. "Even more than you care for me...I know it's not exactly the best time to mention it, but, what the hell. We could die tomorrow and not know it."

"Princess, I care for you as if you were my own," Tarn flatly stated, picking up Clara's staff and holding it out for the young lady. "Your mother, on her deathbed, commissioned me to be your protector as you grew up. That has not changed a single bit."

"Yes, yes, I understand. Just...wait outside, I need to quickly radio Horace and Alicia that the battle is won."

"As you wish." As soon as Tarn stepped outside, Clara slumped back into her chair, this time letting out a muted cry of despair as she rested her arm over her eyes. How could she be more direct and he still didn't understand?!

"Tarn...when will you realize my feelings for you? When will you see me more than the child you raised? When will you see me as a woman?"

O O O

"What the hell!?" Clara shouted, recoiling instantly at the scene that she and Tarn had arrived to see. Bile instantly rose up in her throat, and for the first time, she couldn't hold it back and turned away to throw up as her Royal Knight looked silently on. "Oh...oh...gods."

"General Abe." Tarn's voice was steeled and cold, without showing any feeling but disappointment and disapproval. "Your orders were to capture the rebel leaders alive. I see you are guilty of insubordination now."

Indeed, for the scene was the rebel command tent, a near mirror to the loyalist one. However, the main difference was the flag it flew and the bodies, blood, gore, flesh, brains, and bones that were splattered everywhere inside. There was not a surface not covered in some form of a bodily fluid or body part, nor was there a place in which one could stand without stepping in a pool of blood. Whatever happened in here, it was a massacre.

And at the heart of it all was a bald man in a Marauder's suit, minus the helmet. His eyes were coated with a haze of red, his armor stained red, his gloves red with blood. "They killed my men," General Abe whispered first, then his voice bellowed into a roar. "SO MY CHALLENGE WAS TO KILL THEM!"

"You are not fit for command," Tarn stated, having not even flinched in Abe's verbal attack. "Thus, I hereby relieve you of command. You are to forfeit your men-"

"On whose authority!?" The battle-crazed Marauder screeched and Tarn's hand drifted to his sword scabbard. All he needed was on clean swipe-

"On my authority." With horror rising in his gut, the Royal Knight heard Princess Clara talk as she stared at Abe. "As Tarn is my Royal Knight, his actions are mine. Thus, with my authority, you are relieved of command-"

"THEN I WILL REMOVE YOUR AUTHORITY! THAT IS MY CHALLENGE!" Abe roared, suddenly lunging forward and bringing back his fist at the exposed girl. Clara gasped and tried to summon her force shield, but it would be no use, the casting time was too long-

A dark blur intercepted the fist before it could reach Clara's body and Tarn was sent flying out of the tent's entrance as he shouted in pain. "Tarn!" The white haired girl cried, immediately turning around and running out of the slaughtering grounds. Outside, on the dirt, was Tarn, grimacing in pain as he nursed his right arm. Clara rushed to his side and collapsed, grabbing the broken bones and stuttering. "I'm...I'm so sorry! I didn't know-!"

"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!" A furious voice bellowed as Abe crashed out of the tent, literally tearing it down as he ripped down its supports as he came out. "I will not be denied my challenge!"

With a swift flick of his left arm, Tarn flung his gravity axe at Abe. The Marauder didn't see it coming and was slammed in the chest by it, sending his body crashing backwards. The Royal Knight shakily got up, still holding onto his right arm despite Clara's protests. His suit was ruined, his glasses were cracked, and yet, Tarn stood, drawing his sword with a trembling left hand as his right hung limply. "I won't let you lay a hand on her," The red head swore, readying his weapon. "I'll gladly give my life to protect the Princess."

"Tarn, stop! You really are hurt now! We have to-"

"Raggghhhh!" The Marauder General rose back up from the ground and gritted his teeth, ripping the gravity axe out of his chestplate. Sticky red fluid dripped from the blade of the axe and from the massive gash in Abe's chest, but he did not feel it evidently as he casually tossed the axe away. "A challenge! I shall conquer it!"

"Sir, that's enough!" Two Muraders appeared and yanked on Abe's arms, ignoring his bellows and shouts as they forced him down. "The fight's over! Calm yourself, you've avenged him sir! Sir!"

"We're very sorry about our boss' actions!" A third Marauder appeared in front of Tarn and Clara, shaking his head. "You see, he tends to go...beserk when he sees his men dying. Especially one of the Hammerheads. When our comrade was killed...well, the result was in that tent. Are you alright?"

"I'll live."

 **A/N: Hope that you guys are still enjoying this story! Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about my main series, right after this and the trailer, I will release the Protoss Rebirth! Just be a bit more patient and keep enjoying the story of Tarn!**


	6. Duty After Death-5

As it turned out, Tarn's wounds were horrendously more serious than he let on, and the full extent was only discovered when he began coughing blood. This prompted immediate medical attention, and it was discovered than a majority of his organs was suffering from a form of internal bleeding in some way. It was only through some modern Terran medical technologies that this was discovered, and operation was immediate.

But the damage had been done. The grim surgeon told the horrified Clara and her equally shocked retinue that Tarn had, at most, five years, and that was only if he led a quiet life. To actively participate in Clara's Royal Court anymore was shortening his life more so than ever before.

And thus, the Princess was faced with the first of many harsh decisions she would make living...

O O O

"I already told you, I'm returning to duty tomorrow," Tarn tiredly repeated, adjusting his glasses as he sat up in the white medical bed. "I would do so today, but the doctors insisted one more day of rest. There's no point in arguing for more time."

"Tarn, I don't want you to return to duty, I want you to retire dammit!" The white haired princess pleaded, frantically shaking her head as she tried her argument. "Even if it's just a few more years, I would rather have you spend that time in a quiet library rather than be with me. Please Tarn, you mean so much to me!"

"Then you understand how much your safety means to me as well!" The red head knight barked, coughing slightly from the exertion of the shout. "If you were to get hurt in any way, I would never forgive myself."

"She won't get hurt!" Horace snorted.

"She's with us!" Alicia chimed.

"I trust you two, but I feel that I need to trust myself to protect her as well."

It was clear that Tarn would not back down from his duty, even if that meant him dying. Clara hung her head, trying to hide her tears as the man she loved pledged himself to death to simply protect her. All because she was stupid enough to get hurt on the battlefield! Why? Why did such blasted oaths exist?!

Oath...

"Tarn. What was your oath?" Clara asked in an emotionless manner, her hair shadowing her face. When the man looked at her confused, she clarified. "Your family's oath."

"My family oath?" Tarn blinked in surprise before closing his eyes and remembering that one so faithful night he, a young child, pledged to his father. "I swear, upon this blade, to forever uphold the rights of the Terrazine Royal Family. May the sins and burdens of my father pass onto me, and may I bear them with pride. When time comes, may I pass these duties onto my son and his rightful heirs. I shall serve forever the true ruler of Terrazine, in both life and death."

"I release your family from that oath. Your bloodline is no longer obliged to server under us unconditionally." That simple statement elicited gasps from the mercenaries as they behold the power of that declaration. "I strip Tarn of his title as Royal Knight of Terrazine, and take away what power the office beholds upon him. From here on out, he...he is to be treated as a simple citizen of Terrazine!"

Upon that, her voice finally broke, and Clara turned away, rushing to the hospital door and sobbing all the while. But just before she left, the white haired princess turned to the shocked man with bleary eyes. "Please. Hate me."

That was the last thing Princess Clara ever said to Tarn.

O O O

With his titles and powers gone, Tarn had no choice. The King was far too eager to kick him out of the Royal Palace, and placed a decree that he was to not approach the Royal Family again so long as Terrazine stood. This effectively sealed Tarn from ever seeing his old life again, as the Royal Guards locked the palace gates in front of the miserable man in a butler's uniform, with only an old sword and a battered gravity axe to his name.

Resourceful as he was though, Tarn managed to scourge up a job as a simple librarian in the city, placing his well-honed knowledge of ancient Terrazine to use as he documented and shelved and dusted books in the Public Library of Ancient Knowledge. Every day to him seemed to meld together; an university student asking for a certain research paper; a group of young boys crowding around descriptions of ancient weaponry; a shy woman asking for books on old love ballads (he would find some of those poems written on a paper addressed to him the next day). At every encounter, Tarn could smile and aid each one in each unique way.

But every day, as the red head slung a book bag over his shoulder and locked the door to his meager home, he looked up at the soaring Royal Palace made of marble in the distance. And every day, his mind strayed to the stowed weapons under his bed, and his hand would curl up as if holding them again. Every day, a single thought crossed his mind: "How is she holding up today?"

As years passed, Tarn would indeed manage to glimpse Clara through a throng of people in the military parades so often held. Every time, her face was shadowed her her hair, as if she had sealed away part of her very soul by banishing Tarn. Horace and Alicia were always at her side, but Tarn could see it in their miserable stances that they were uncomfortable being in such public company without a third set of keen eyes aiding in the search for assassins. Sure, they did their job as Tarn recalled an incident where an assassin tried pulling a gun out from the crowd and the two performed admirably in controlling the situation, but even while they did so...it was as if they were missing a person from their routine as they constantly made to turn and shout to a Royal Knight who didn't exist anymore.

Prince Zeb, for the other part, looked as though he was getting on with age, as his shoulders became even heavier and heavier each year. His aide Tyler, on the hand, seemed to be happier and zealous every year. Once, because a person on the side of the parade made a rather snide remark of the King, the man actually pulled out a pistol and fired at said offender, winging the poor civilian's arm. Only Zeb's quick intervention stopped Tyler from firing another.

Xana, on the other hand...Tarn almost never saw her at the parades anymore. From what he could gather from the gossip circles, it seemed that she was spending more and more time in the Terran Empire than Terrazine. There were rumors that she and the famed Commander Anthony had something for each other; the former knight found himself smiling at the news. Xana was perhaps the closest thing to a babysitter he had between raising Clara and participating in Zeb's sparring. A good sister.

And so, Tarn lived in the masses of Terrazine, yearning for his old life but accepting his new one. He longed for the thrill of fight of an assassination and thought of helping a struggling student get through school. It was odd, as how his new life thrilled him in the same way as his old one, but...Tarn supposed the difference mattered anymore.

Either way, he would serve Terrazine.

O O O

"We've got wounded here, be quick with the stretchers!" A sweat covered Tarn yelled, beckoning to the medical team as they picked their way over the rubble. His librarian coat was in tatters, and his book bag was all but gone, but that didn't matter! "Quick, they've lost a lot of blood already!"

As the wounded moaning civilians were carted away, the red headed man took a break and slumped against the destroyed wall that was once part of the library. Or rather, the ex-library now, as it smoldered with fire that caught from the Terran artillery. His workplace was gone.

Stacked on his side was a pile of books Tarn had barely been able to save when the shelling began. He could've gotten more, but there were wounded civilians trapped under the rubble of bricks and Tarn had to dig them out first. As a result, most of the books burned, a pyre of knowledge that only fueled the furnace of war.

His sword was tucked away at his waist and his gravity axe slung on his back, weapons he had quickly retrieved when he heard that the Terran army was marching for the city. Tarn could hardly believe that the King of Terrazine had actually ordered a civil war within the Empire, for the sole reason of obtaining power; was he a bigger idiot than assumed? Even from a basic tactician's standpoint, they could dismiss the action as doomed to fail as Terrazine and their allies lacked enough resources to wage such a costly war.

But right now, all the red headed man was concerned about was helping others survive this calamity. Citizens of Terrazine were suffering and dying because of one man's stupid decision; Tarn was insistent on trying to save as many of them as he could. He may not be a Royal Knight anymore, but dammit, if the Terran Empire wanted to kill civilians-!

"The Royal Army of Terrazine that shall bring salvation has arrived!" A rather familiar and obnoxious voice announced and Tarn lifted his head to see, out of all people, Tyler stride forward in a manner much like a peacock. An very amusing sight considering he was in CMC Power Armor. Interestingly enough, the man noted that the aide to the late Zeb now had a robotic leg. It would seem that he suffered a wound in leaving Zeb for dead; good. "Rejoice! We shall defeat the Terran army here and secure our place in glorious history!"

"Glorious history of absolute defeats you mean," Tarn sardonically added, raising his voice as he slowly got up. Immediately, Tyler whirled around and pulled out a pistol, firing in the same smooth action. A practiced execution move.

Unfortunately, Tarn had seen it performed far too many times, and rather dramatically sighed as the projectile went wide from a simple sidestep. It didn't even skim his long hair. Tyler stared in disbelief before recognition dawned in his eyes and he laughed. "Oh! It's the banished Royal Knight! Of course you would be here, mingling with the commoners!"

"The name is Tarn, if you still haven't learnt it by now," The red headed man wearily told, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "But I'm intrigued. What is this salvation army you talk of?"

"None other than the finest warriors of our ancestors!" At this, Tarn's eyes snappd wide open as he heard the sound of metal grinding against metal. His memorized lore went into overtime as they recalled the warriors of death, the automatons of lightning...no, it couldn't be!

And yet, there they were. Ever since that one fateful journey with Zeb, they had haunted his dreams: the robots of Old Terrazine. They must've been activated and restored from their resting place, called back into battle by the desperate in a final attempt to sally out to victory. Their eternally frozen metallic faces seemed to drill into Tarn as they marched forward uncaringly, their bodies humming with green energy that powered them. Green gauss rifles hummed with power in their hands, still operational after centuries of slumber.

Tarn couldn't help himself. "Are you insane?!" He asked, frantically drawing out his sword. "They are the enemies of life itself! You risk dooming us all! Be lucky that they aren't at full power!"

"Full power?" This seemed to intrigue Tyler. "What can we do to power them up?"

"A massive power surge, or life force." The answer instinctively slipped out Tarn's mouth, trained by years of aiding inquisitive students. He found himself horrified as he answered the worst possible way in the current situation. "Either one of them could strengthen all forms of the robots of Old Terrazine."

"Well, we lack power surge, but...I believe we have life force a plenty," The aide to the late Zeb sniggered, glancing at the shocked and wounded civilians. "I'm sure that giving up your life for your kingdom is a noble deed then!"

"No!" The former royal knight drew his blade and stepped up, hacking as old pains sprang up but keeping his blade pointing at Tyler. "I won't let you kill civilians!"

There was a blur as Tyler moved, and years of retirement snuck up on Tarn as he found himself smacked to the side by the backhand of an armored fist. He was evidently unable to react in time as his body crashed onto rubble. Blood trickled from his mouth as internal wounds reopened from the blunt force trauma, his sight already fading to black. The last thing Tarn heard was from that accursed Tyler's mouth, that snake of Terrazine. "Now, submit to our warriors of death!"

O O O

When his eyes opened, there was a bright glare of light. Tarn instinctively shielded his naked eyes, blinking wildly as he tried making out what was his end. But after a while, he finally noticed that nothing was happening and his free hand shot out to the side. After slamming his palms a few times into what assumedly was a metal desk, the man found his glasses and placed them on.

He was what looked to be a field-hospital. Tarn had fought enough battles in the Terrazine Civil War to have been in them, but...after all these years of retirement, it felt odd being in one again. A quick glance to the side of the bed surprised him as his family sword and gravity axe leaned against the metal railing. Why weren't they confiscated...?

Slowly, Tarn pushed the white blanket of the cot off and found himself wearing a hospital gown. His chest ached, as though he had just undergone surgery again; was that what happened?

"Yes it was," A voice answered and Tarn's head snapped around, one hand shooting for his sword scabbard. Pain immediately swelled up all over and the red head grimaced as he began drawing the blade. "Hold up, take it easy; your body is weaker than ever before."

"I know that voice..." Tarn muttered, eyes scanning the empty room. "Xana? Where are you hiding?"

Then suddenly, the feeling of hot breath washed over his side as his former mistress' voice echoed in his ear. A shiver ran down his spine at the feeling. "Right behind you."

Tarn made no sudden movements, but slowly turned his heard around and there she was, small glittering digital diamonds disappearing into the air to reveal Princess Xana. Or rather, the ex-Princess as she just stood there in a bodysuit, her icy blue eyes staring from under that pure white hair. She had nothing in her hands, but there was a holster on her hip with assumedly a blaster pistol. "How many years has it been?" Xana asked, tilting her head. "I've almost forgotten your face. Frankly, only that butler's uniform was the give away that it was you."

"It's been a very long time." All of Tarn's battle lust faded as he just slumped back onto the medical cot, his motivation lost to fight as he realized the situation. "I take it then...Terrazine is no more?"

"I'm afraid so," Xana coldly replied, leaning against one of the tent's poles. "All surviving civilians of Terrazine are to be relocated to new Terran cities, and the land is to be left to the elements before claimed by Terrans again."

"I see...how many of us are left?" Tarn looked up, weary. "How many people survived our war...?"

"...On record...excluding irredemable cast of Father and his entourage...two that we know of." Her face shadowed by bangs, Xana didn't look at Tarn as she finished the report. "Me...and you."

At this, Tarn bowed his head as tears welled up in his eyes, unable to believe that Terrazine was all but gone. "What...how did the others...pass? Did they fight?"

"No. When we entered the city...everybody was already dead. They had no pulse, no breath, nothing whatsoever. It was as if the life was sucked out of them."

"Those monsters-!" Tarn slammed his fist into the bed frame, his voice quivering. "Those damn robots! I knew it-!"

"So that's how she got them working..." The white haired woman let out a breath before shaking her head. "Pray that we never find these again...the lives lost today are a brilliant splash of blood across the Terran Empire's books."

"Xana...tell me. What happened to Clara?" All honorifics were forsaken as Tarn pleaded. "Tell me...how did she die? And who?"

"I killed her." The answer was so blunt, so straightforward as the former knight looked in horror. "Shot in the heart. Clean wound, immediate death. She wouldn't have felt any pain."

"You committed fratricide?!" Tarn roared, standing up and glaring at the emotionless soldier. "Has zealotry blinded you?"

"No. Purpose has." A pause, then the Ghost slowly admitted, "I gave her a chance. She refused, saying that her new position of Queen has doomed her to death. I had no choice."

"She's your sister!"

"She was in the Commander's way."

"Do you love the Terrans more than your own kingdom? What gives you the right to kill somebody who only loved you from the moment she was born?!"

"The same right that had me kill Zeb."

Tarn's accusing hand dropped as he staggered back. "No...no..." He whispered. "I knew he died, but...you?"

"I killed my entire brother and sister. I watched them die in front of my eyes." Her voice was cold and cutting, showing no regret or remorse whatsoever for her actions. "You asked what gave me the right to do so? Because I'm a Ghost; I died as a Terrazine. I returned to haunt them to the grave...and now, I will forever haunt the Terran Empire till its grave."

Xana flicked her wrist and turned away, moving to the tent's exit. But just as she was about to leave, there was a whisper from the wind as it was sliced apart next to her ear, Tarn's sword darting into the space next to her head. "As if I'd let you go without judging you fairly by the laws of Terrazine first!" Tarn snarled, his eyes showing anger and hatred at the woman he once thought was a friend.

The Ghost didn't even bother to turn around as she was held at swordpoint. There was no movement for her blaster pistol, no indication of fighting or resisting as she just stood there, awaiting Tarn's judgement. She knew, that by all rights, Xana should've just pulled out her gun and shot him and be done with this. Nobody would care.

Nobody living that is. A Ghost must remember the dead though.

After a few moments, the blade hovering next to her head was taken away as Tarn quietly told her his decision. "You added a few more years to my life. For that, I shall grant you a few more as well...but know this! I have, and will NEVER forgive you for your sins against Terrazine! By the power that is upon me as the last Terrazine free of corruption, I shall declare you to be killed on sight after this day!"

That was a powerless and meaningless declaration, and they both knew it. The only people who would care would be people from their dead kingdom, and it was more than likely that the two would be the only ones left after this horrid war. All that did was declare that there could never be peace between Xana and Tarn forever; not in this lifetime at least, and that was short considering that Tarn had only a couple years left before his body collapsed.

"I will contact a colleague; you have knowledge that he will gladly welcome and pay you for," The General said, never turning around. "I wonder, how good are you at teaching students?"

And with that, the two parted. They wouldn't meet each other in their lifetimes ever again.


	7. Duty After Death-6

"Professor?" Tarn blinked as he was addressed by a frazzled and blearly eyed college student. "I was told that you wanted to see me after my classes?"

"Oh, yes, right. About your thesis." The red headed man stood from his desk, taking from it a stack of papers that he presented to the student. "I was not aware you were going to present it on the topic of Terrazine. May I ask why the sudden interest in the topic?"

"Um...I just really want to learn a lot about them!" The student explained, making wide hand gestures. "It's kinda cool that the Terrazines were an interstellar empire before our grand Terran Empire was with Meriah!"

"I see. Well, if you want any help, just ask me." Tarn nodded in a dismissive gesture and the student gratefully left the man's office. "Well, it's good to see that our history will carry on..." The Professor of Terrazine mused as he returned back to his grading.

Barely an hour passed before Tarn received another visitor to his office. A rather official looking man in a military uniform knocked on the open door, prompting the red head man to turn his head sharply. "Yes?"

"You are...Professor Tarn? Expert in the Terrazine Kingdom?"

"That would be me. Is there something you need?"

"Rather, we, the Terran Empire, have found something that you might want to take a look at. Something that looks a lot like...Terrazine artifacts."

"What?" Tarn stood up from his chair, completely taken back. "You...you found artifacts?! Where?!"

"Meriah."

O O O

They weren't lying. One government-sponsored space flight later, and Tarn was earnestly working on excavating the newly discovered Terrazine ruins on Meriah. He was both shocked and pleased; his culture wasn't doomed! By hopefully unearthing information from these ruins, Tarn wished to possibly seek out more worlds in which the old Terrazine's Empire may have settled upon. Perhaps then...

But, as always, fate seemed to turn around and laugh at Tarn as it sent yet another cruel misfortune upon the former knight. This misfortune took form as an old colleague, one hell bent on revenge. Walking with one normal and one robotic leg, this final twist would be the end of Tarn's life...

O O O

"Mmf! Mmmmmffff!" Tarn struggled, but was unable to break the ropes that bound his wrists together. Nor was he able to cry out from the gag in his mouth, and his head was stuffed in some kind of black sack that obscured all vision. All the man knew was that he was stuffed in some kind of vehicle, his body feeling the vibrations that were normally associated with motorized transportation.

Who in the world was kidnapping him? There was not a single person Tarn could think of who would want a man of his caliber. He had no connections, no relations, no family...there was nearly nothing that any hostage taker would want from Tarn. So what was going on?

The vehicle came to an abrupt stop and Tarn jolted forward, choking as the sudden action churned up his insides. He wasn't even able to take his medicine before being snatched from his bed...if the professor didn't get some soon, there could be lasting damage. But that was the least of his concerns.

The whirring of machinery was heard as what felt like a power glove picked up Tarn and then pitched him forward, off the vehicle and onto dirt. The knight's bound hands immediately shot upwards and managed to tear away both the sack and gag from his face, swiftly getting back up. "Who the hell are you?!" He shouted, trying frantically to chew off the ropes on his hands.

An ominous click was heard and Tarn froze as he saw the blaster pistol being leveled at him. He knew there was no way to overpower somebody in CMC Power Armor, skilled or not, especially with his medical condition. Slowly, Tarn lowered his hands. "Huh," The kidnapper grunted, his visor sliding up. "Not so tough when you don't have a weapon now, is it?"

"Tyler! You're alive?!" Tarn exclaimed, his eyes widening. "I thought...I thought you had been killed!"

"Righteous duty protects me from harm. Now, get going!" To emphasize the order, the outlaw fired at the red head's feet, causing him to scramble back. With a bitter curse, Tarn saw no choice but to turn around and be prodded forward by enemy. Only now did he realize where they were.

The two were right now standing outside the entrance to the main tomb discovered on Meriah, a black obsidian archway embedded in the red cliff face. A motorbike with a sidecar was idling nearby, probably what Tyler used to bring Tarn here. From what the professor knew, the nearest sign of civilization was a ways off: he was stuck.

Pistol prodding into his uniform, Tarn was forced into the pitch black tomb. There was a brief hum before Tyler's suit lights activated, twin beams of illumination waving around in the darkness. It seemed though that Tyler knew what his goal was, and Tarn was forced into the main hall of the tomb.

The great chamber of Meriah mimicked the exact appearance of the one back home in Terrazine, with a main sarcophagus on one end, a weapon armory on the other, and lines upon lines of coffins dotting the walls and levels. When in here with his excavation team, Tarn was sure to seal the sensitive data consoles with plastic casings that would make it impossible for one of the team to accidentally press a button and unleash Armageddon. But it didn't seem to stop Tyler from smashing them open and slamming Tarn against the consoles. "Well? Activate them!"

Tarn stared blankly at Tyler before realizing the demand. "Activate the robots?!" The knight spat, furiously shaking his head. "I'd rather go to hell than sentence more people to die!"

"Would you now?" The outlaw sneered, pressing the gun barrel against Tarn's throat. "Think about it; me and you, we aren't so different!"

"I actually have morals in comparison."

"But look: you hate the Terran Empire. I hate the Terran Empire. Have you ever heard of the phrase the enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

This surprising comment threw Tarn for a loop as he stared at the console. His mind began racing as it considering the situation, the dangers, the outcomes. What was the right choice?

Everything about him screamed to deny Tyler's wish. But then what would happen? Tarn would be killed and left in the tomb for the next excavation team to find. Then Tyler...

He would seek out another person who knew how to activate these robots of death. Tarn's mind flashed to Xana, with a bitter remark that her death wouldn't be entirely unwelcome at Tyler's hands. But at the same time, she was too well protected. There was nobody else who knew!

Tyler caught Tarn's sudden flare of resistance n his eyes, but instead of just executing his prisoner, the one legged man grin wickedly. "Oh, but I do know that you've taught some people about Terrazine...professor. I'm willing to bet that one of them, after some 'motivation' will spill the beans easier."

At this, Tarn's shoulder sagged. His life or that of a student? Or that of a million? "Undo these bonds, and I'll activate them."

Tyler nodded and took out a combat knife, slicing through the rope with a slick gesture. His hands free, Tarn rotated them around before sighing and beginning his work. His gloved fingers pulled levers and pushed buttons that only he could understand, years of knowledge finally bearing fruit; a fruit of death.

His finger briefly paused as it hovered over the final button. One push, and there was next to nothing that could stop the awakening army. This planet would perish, and the Terran Empire would suffer. Was this what he really wanted?

Was this what Clara would've wanted?

Immediately, Tarn's head snapped upwards as his eyes widened. Of course. Of course. The robots had been activated back in his home kingdom. But the Terran Empire defeated them. How?

They killed Clara.

"Tyler, I need you to do something to finish activation."

"I don't like the sound of this. What?" The man spat, raising his bolt pistol at his hostage.

"I need you to let this latch on you." With careful and precise movements, Tarn opened up a small storage box in the console and lifted out a metallic looking beetle. Green glowing eyes began to dimly to activate the moment it was taken out, and the scarab began to scuttle. "If you do so, this army will be linked to you completely. They will be unquestioningly loyal, so you will not have to bother with possible subordination."

"That...is actually good. Hand it over!" Tyler eagerly snatched the scarab and dropped it down his open visor. The metal creature blinked and scurried around before biting down and embedding itself in its new host's skin. The outlaw growled in pain as it happened, but shook his head and gestured. "Now, activate them!"

"Yes, of course." Tarn turned around and pressed the activation button. At the same time, Tyler's pistol went off and the round blew out the professor's back, leaving him limp on the console as he began coughing blood.

"I'll be generous. You can have a slow death instead of a quick execution now!" That was the last thing Tarn heard as he flopped lifelessly to the floor, cursing Tyler's name with a classic Terrazine curse.

"Go to hell."

O O O

So Tarn laid there, blood trickling out his mouth as well as gushing out of his back. A pile of the red sticky fluid began to pile around him, his hair already becoming soaked from his own life fluids. His vision was fading and darkening, but yet, his mind was sharp.

He could hear through what seemed to be a watery barrier laughter. Laughter of the insane. And he could hear creaking of rusted hinges, the hum of gauss weapons, the chattering numbers. They never stopped as he bled there, waiting for death to take him.

And yet, no matter whenever the warm embrace of eternal slumber came, Tarn fought it off with a pained cough. Why? It was all over. His life was over the moment Clara dismissed him. He wasn't a royal knight anymore. He wasn't anybody special. Just a professor in Terrazine history. Just a librarian. Just a caretaker.

But that was what his family were. Caretakers of the royal bloodline. Tarn, all of the sudden, could see his father there, smiling, leaning down and offering down his sword. _"Now Tarn, we protect Terrazine no matter what. Wherever we are, whoever we become, remember: our oath first. Please, recite what you've been taught and take up this weapon."_

"I swear," Tarn coughed, red spots dancing in his vision as his hand reached out to take the illusion sword, "upon this blade, to forever uphold the rights of the Terrazine Royal Family."

His hand grasped nothing and Tarn laughed at his own hallucinations of death, his arm now lifelessly dropping to the floor. "But-ack- that's not right. I don't swear upon this blade.

"I swear, upon my soul, to forever uphold the rights of Queen Clara of the Terrazine Dynasty. I swear, to you, dear Zeb, that even if death take me now and forever, to fight by her side till the end of the universe. I swear, to you, my love wherever you are, that my duty shall not end with death."

And then his heart stopped.

O O O

He was dead. He knew that. He felt his heart weaken and fade, unable to function without enough blood.

But why? Why was he feeling cold air upon his skin? Why was he feeling the aches and pains of a worn body? And yet, he did not draw breath?

A familiar, but more robotic feminine voice echoed in Tarn's sound receptors as his newly made glowing green visual sensors flickered upwards. "I accept your oath. May I, Queen Clara of the Terran Dynasty, forever hold you to your promise and welcome you to my Royal Court. From now on, you shall be under my protection and be judged only fairly by your peers and none other. Welcome to the life after death, my brave death knight."

 **A/N: Right. That was long. A lot longer than I thought. But I'm quite satisfied with that!**

 **Now, for some big announcements as I expect all of you are ready to maul me for the Protoss Rebirth.**

 **While writing the first chapter for the Protoss Rebirth, I noticed something oh so very crucial: chapter quality was not coming up to snuff. And upon reviewing all of the Zerg Rebirth, I noticed that my chapters have been gradually losing quality due to the awkward timescale I forced upon myself of one chapter a week. It worked for the Terran Rebirth because that was the best faction I worked with, but for now, I'll be updating every two weeks to ensure chapter quality as well as reasonable time scale. Don't worry about chapters taking months to write: I still do have more stories to tell!**

 **The Protoss Rebirth should come out in a couple weeks on that, barring any unforeseen writer's block. The trailer will be released next week. I hope you look forward to both!**


	8. Protoss Rebrith Trailer!

Assault

The fortress was burning.

But it had not yet fallen despite the amount of firepower they were pouring into it. Great blue pulses of energy soared in the sky and crashed against the walls, spitting fire and bricks and bodies everywhere as defenders were sent flying. But even then, they held, pouring plasma fire down onto the attackers as they died in waves trying to finally assault the battered walls.

The green hooded man standing on the crest of the hill noted this all as he made a few mental calculations, absently rubbing against his red colored leather armor. After a few seconds, he sighed and flipped open the blue circular item, watching the digital hologram build itself. A decision had to be made.

This had been going on from the last few days, this cycle of death with no gain from the besieging camp. Casualties were mounting up, and this fort was far too crucial not to take. He had to ask his master for advice.

Soon, another robed figure appeared in the hologram, and the two briefly exchanged words before the green hooded man nodded and flipped the device close. Time to get to work, he thought as he jogged down the hill and into the ever busy siege camp. He needed allies.

Two more hooded figures were already waiting for him at the base of the hill, another man while the other obviously female from her skirt under her coat as they fell in step behind him. Together, the three passed by the firing line that was their army trying to pick off any stray defender on the walls.

One person in particular, another green hooded lady, was of their interest. She was using a technological-looking bow, a black strip of metal with blue power lines pulsing throughout the weapon as she let loose arrow after arrow up into the battlements. Every shot was a kill, every arrow a monument to those she killed as she poured into the defenders.

Upon noticing her green hooded companions though, the archer quickly grabbed her quiver and slung it back around her waist, quickly running to catch up to the three. Once the main man glanced behind, the three gave slight nods, signifying their commitment to the cause. There was no turning back.

And so, the four began to run, not bothering to let out a battle cry or even a whisper of a sound as they dashed across the no-man's land. The defenders immediately targeted the dashing cloaked people, but it was futile as they each nimbly dodge each shot with athletic grace, dashing left and right as they closed the distance between them and the walls. That was the signal!

The remainder of the attacking army rallied and shouted as they followed the vanguard of four, leaping over the barriers and making their way to the fortress as well. A few laser bolts caught some of them, leaving them ominously motionless on the dirt as their comrades trampled over them. There was no stopping their zealousness for the cause.

A few feet away from the walls, one of the female figures skidded to a stop and slammed their hands down on the dirt. Immediately, a pale blue bubble of energy shielding rose and absorbed all the laser shots, be them targeted at the four or the main army. The archer stopped running as well as she activated her bow and notched three arrows on the string made of a light beam. She pulled all three back, paused, then released to watch the trio of projectiles explode on the walls, sending defenders flying everywhere from the explosive arrows.

Meanwhile, at the base of the crumbling walls were the two male hooded figures as they pressed their backs against the brick-like material. There was a moment of silence as they looked at each other before they both gave a brief hacking laugh. They had done this too many times for this not to be taken too seriously.

With a flash, the hooded figure with a different red leather armor called into his hand an odd blade, one that composed of three black diamond outlines in its shape. A quick flick, and his friend took out a stone dagger, running his finger along it as it glowed brightly, the light energy condensing and augmenting the small weapon into a blade of light. The two nodded, then leapt upwards.

The soldiers in blood armor up top were caught by utter surprise, and literal heads rolled as the two kept swinging and slicing as they secured a small foothold. The sudden breach was enough to cause nearby enemy soldiers to turn from their fire positions in an effort to kill the two assassins. That was a mistake.

Seeing the defenders confused and shocked, the archer yelled and gestured to the main army. Immediately, there was a hollow war cry as the sieging troops leapt from their foxholes and began charging over the open ground. There were a few quick snapshots that brought down a few figures, but the attackers managed to cross the no man's land and began to assault directly the walls with grappling hooks and plasma burners.

Meanwhile, the two warriors were quickly cleaning their section of the battlements of any final foes. The swordsman wedged his blade into the neck of an armored foe before leaning back, a dagger of light flying right next to his throat. Said projectile embedded itself in another enemy's chest, knocking the surprised soldier off the wall and down into the courtyard. With a quick slice, the final enemy on the wall was finished off and the assassins regrouped.

The two girls quickly scaled the damaged wall as the main body troops did so, the four quickly meeting up before directing the assaulting troops to drop down into the courtyard. The remaining enemy garrison was forming up in the massive square in the center, and the battle inside the fortress began. It would be hard and grim fighting...unless the defending commander was forced to surrender. Or, at the very least, killed.

Information feeds quickly located the man inside the fortress keep and the four assassins moved swiftly, darting through the main battle in the courtyard to reach the keep. Here and there they paused to give quick hand to their troops, be it a quick slash or a shout of encouragement. Upon reaching the end of the courtyard, the band quickly began climbing, ignoring and being ignored by the combatants below as the armies clashed.

The final defenders on the keep's walls were utterly surprised and cut down when the four got to the top. With a swift gesture from the assassin's leader, they split apart again, heading in opposite directions of their entry. The swordsman and the mute went together while the priest and the archer went the other way, both teams intent on taking down their target.

Bands of soldiers tried holding up the swordsman, but he danced and slashed through them all, dashing quick as fast as he could. But then, when he kicked open a door, he found himself staring down a firing line of plasma rifles trained on the now-open entryway. With a loud curse, he felt himself yanked back as the rifles fired.

His partner pulled him back and put herself in the way, quickly clasping her hands together. A pale shield rapidly emerged from her, absorbing the deadly hail of plasma as the soldiers fired. After checking to see that her colleague was fine, the girl viciously activated her blades and leapt into the enemy, tearing them apart in close quarters combat as they frantically tried to hit the nimble assassin.

Seeing the enemy in front occupied, the swordsman took a quick glance out of a nearby window and saw the other couple in the courtyard. But they seemed to be in a spot of trouble: they had found their target, a heavily armored man in black and red, but his subordinates were keeping the two assailants at bay. They weren't exactly losing as several lifeless bodies of the enemy were at their feet, but they weren't going to break through in time as new information was fed into the swordsman's ear. A small enemy fleet had broken through the blockade up in orbit and were heading to their location, possibly looking to extract their target. This could not happen.

Taking in a deep breath, the swordsman stuck his odd blade into the floor and raised his right hand. His gauntlet whirled and hummed before spitting out into the courtyard an odd canister, the item clattering on the ground and attracting everybody's attention. The two assassins immediately backed off from it, fading into the shadows just as the EMP canister activated, neutralizing all guards who were too close. Screams and the smell of cooked flesh filled the air as many of the living fell and those still alive were heavily disorientated. The commander, realizing that his life was truly in danger now, began to panic and tried fleeing up the stairs, to the highest tower in the fortress.

But the other two were already on him, cutting and shooting down all the dazed guards in their way. As they closed in, the commander frantically opened a door to escape through...only to find another assassin, the other girl on the other side, her hand blades drenched in blood as she slowly approached him. The commander, seeing no other way out as he looked between the assassin in front and the assassins in back, drew his blade-

Only to have an odd blade shoved in his back as the swordsman leapt from the window above and impaled his target from the behind.

 **A/N: A week without Internet is fun. But I hope you still are hyped!**

 **Oh, and a colleague of mine to draw an illustration of our main heroes for the Protoss Rebirth! I hope this just riles you up even more!**


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